


Love Bird

by squigg_les



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 1960's AU, A Lot of Plot, Bisexual Yuuri, Blood and Violence, Cop AU, Detective AU, Gay Victor, Gore, Hiroko is deaf, Homophobia, Knife Wounds, Love Bird is based heavily on the Zodiac because im bad at writing lmfao, M/M, Major Character Injury, Past Yuuri/Phichit, Police AU, Racism, Slow Burn, Slurs, Yuuri has anxiety, Yuuri is like quadlingual, beautiful man I love him, chris and phichit are the ultimate wingmen, gun shot wounds, i know nothing about police work so this is probably all bullshit, idk its a mess, it's the 1960's in the us so obviously there a lot of racism too, they basically analyze dead people a lot so??, they're basically brothers??, victor and yurio live together, victor is a gay mess, victor realizes he gay, yuuri has to work through his trauma, yuuri's been in the know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squigg_les/pseuds/squigg_les
Summary: It was the summer of 1969, and Yuuri Katsuki's life was finally pulling together. He'd gotten the job of his dreams, as a police officer, and Tori, one of the most beautiful women in all of the Bay Area has asked him on a date. But the summer housed another person high on their luck; a serial killer called Lovebird, who had Yuuri in his sights.Surviving Lovebird's attack means hours of questioning every day, a crippled body, and the image of his would-be killer seemingly painted onto the back of his eyelids.It also means meeting the alluring Victor Nickiforov, a detective who's working night and day to catch the man that hurt Yuuri.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yuuri could see the lacy edge of the black demi-cup she was wearing. Her breasts oozed out of the top of it, and Yuuri felt his face become hot and pink. Tori laughed. “You’re so cute, Yuuri.” She sat upright again, her hand moving down the center of his chest. It undid the top button of Yuuri’s uniform. Then the second button. 
> 
> And then the windshield shattered.

It was the summer of 1969, and the night air was warm and dry. It was just beginning to cool after a long day of baking to nearly 80 degrees. The hour hit 9:00 PM, and the city of Oakland, California let out a sigh of relief. Everyone was used to mild weather; as was the way in Oakland. That, and no one wanted the hefty bills that air conditioning would cost them. 

In Oakland, there was a large, abandoned parking lot that sat on the very edge of town. Few trees grew in the city, but a measly scattering of pine trees had made their way through the concrete and hung over the old lot, like dark, inquisitory silhouettes. This drowned out the scent of smog from the busy city streets, making the spot moderately relaxing. 

A singular car was parked at the edge of it. It was appeared empty; if one glanced into the windshield, no one could be seen immediately. 

This did not necessarily mean that no one was in the car. And thought the air outside was rather relaxing, the tone changed once the doors closed around you. The car smelled of leather and floral perfume, and soft music filtered through the speakers. The song could hardly be heard over the sound of bodies shifting against each other.

Yuuri Katsuki had never imagined himself in the position he was in right now, which was his back pressed flat against the two front seats of his roommate’s car, a pretty girl straddling his waist. 

The girl’s name was Tori, and even as she bent back down to kiss Yuuri with open lips, he knew that she didn't really like him that much. They’d never spoken until two days prior, when it was announced that Yuuri had gotten into the police force. This made him one of the first Japanese-American police officers in Oakland, and all of the Bay Area. It also made him really, really cool, at least within his closely-knit neighborhood community of the Bay Area, which was why Tori had suggested going on a date. Yuuri had only ever seen her on dates with the most attractive of men; with his excess chub, or his stretch marks, plain face, and stature, he’d thought himself out of the running completely. 

Tori ground her hips across his and Yuuri gasped lightly. His fingers, which rested on the top of the girl’s hips, clenched slightly, and he heard her gasp against his mouth. Her tongue flickered between his lips, and Yuuri felt some urge to meet her in the middle, so his tongue reached out as well. She tasted like the hamburgers that they’d gotten and that now lay, discarded on the dashboard of the car. _This is actually kind of gross,_ Yuuri thought. He considered pushing her away, but decided against it. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and he really didn't need her to think that he didn't like her. There were two types of people that didn't like Tori: gay men and straight women. Yuuri was very obviously not a part of the later category. 

Tori rose up, and Yuuri’s eyes followed her flushed face. She didn't seemed dissatisfied, which was good. “Yuuri…” she crooned before leaning down over him again, her hands on either side of his head. Her shirt, which was already quite low cut, slid down even further, until Yuuri could see the lacy edge of the black demi-cup she was wearing. Her breasts oozed out of the top of it, and Yuuri felt his face become hot and pink. Tori laughed. “You’re so cute, Yuuri.” She sat upright again, her hand moving down the center of his chest. It undid the top button of Yuuri’s uniform. Then the second button. 

And then the windshield shattered. 

Yuuri’s mind held a freeze frame of the scene; Tori’s head whipping to the side, tiny chunks of green-blue safety glass flying through the air around a tiny hole in the window. And the world seemed to hang in that moment for minutes. 

Then Yuuri’s eyes squeezed shut, and he curled to his side as glass pelted his side. 

_Oh my God, I broke Phichit’s car._

He pulled himself up. “Tori?” No answer. He opened his eyes, and yelped. Tori’s face was an inch from his. “Tori, are alri-” 

Her eyes were bugging from her head, and her jaw hung open as if in a silent cry for help. She caught Yuuri’s wrist, but her fingers were weak and they quickly slipped from his arm. Her hand lay twitching on his lap and she fell down across black leather seats of the car.

There was a deep, bloody hole, right across her creamy pale cheek. 

Yuuri screamed, and fell backward.

He stared out the empty windshield, and though it was dark, he could make out the silhouette of a person against the trees. 

It was advancing quickly. 

_Where’s my gun?_ Yuuri thought desperately, but he knew it was locked in the box under the dashboard of his cop car, where he always put it when he was off duty. Adrenaline filled Yuuri’s veins. The figure was maybe fifty feet from him. Desperately, Yuuri stared down at Tori. She wasn't moving.

_Yuuri, she’s dead. You can’t help her. Get out of the car._

The car door opened, and Yuuri stumbled out. His knees hit the ground, and he scrambled up, and sprinted toward the sidewalk. There, a few yards away, was a phone booth, and Yuuri threw himself into it, falling onto the phone before he could yank it off of the hook. He shoved a handful of change into the phone, and dialed 911 fast as he could. _On my first day as a police officer, I got to call the police,_ he thought, and almost giggled. 

“ _911, what’s your emergency?_ ”

Yuuri took a deep breath, and then spat out as quickly as he could, “This is Yuuri Katsuki, I’m on the west edge of Oakland, in an parking lot next to a …” he wanted to look at the store name, but that would mean looking outside, and he was terrified to spot the figure advancing toward him. “It’s an abandoned store and parking lot. Someone shot my date through the windshield of my car and I think he’s coming toward me …” Yuuri heard footsteps outside of the phone booth. “He’s here.” A strange noise like a groan or a whimper crawled from his throat. Panic seized him, its claws hands cementing his shoulders in place. The door was opened slightly, and Yuuri could see the burgundy jacket that whoever-it-was was wearing. The phone booth slowly opened. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers. 

Yuuri found himself staring up. The man was nearly 6’5, with wide shoulders. His head was perched small on his neck, too small, until it looked like a scribbled drawing that Yuuko’s triplets had given Yuuri. In his hands was a silver pistol. 

But perhaps the worst part was that the figure had pair of nylons pulled over his head, making his face appear like a blank, white slate. 

For a moment, Yuuri just stared at it, and it stared back. 

Nothing in the world seemed to move. 

“ _Sir, are you there?_ ” Both of them turned to the phone. “ _Sir?_ ” 

Under the nylons, Yuuri saw the features of a person twist into an expression of anger. “N-no-” Yuuri stammered as the gun because to move. His eyes were glued to the barrel, and the thick, sausage-like hands of the gunman as they closed about the trigger. “Wait, please, please, _don’t-_

**Bang.**

The air hung heavy and still.

And then everything was happening at once. 

The air rushed from Yuuri’s lungs all at once, as if he’d been punched, and he stumbled backward onto the phone. The shot has been so loud that his ears were ringing, and he gritted his teeth against the whine as he slowly turned to stare down at a small hole which had opened up in the fabric around his stomach. _People don’t really survive gunshot wounds,_ he thought, almost dreamily. It was strange, he couldn't actually feel the gunshot wound; in fact, he couldn't feel anything at- 

**Bang.** He stumbled again, feeling a violent jolt run through his body. 

It began as almost bearable, and Yuuri felt himself gasp, cupping his hands over his gut. His hand brushed the frayed flesh around the first bullet wound. A little bit of blood splattered onto his open palm. 

Then the pain swelled to an unimaginable size and he was screaming.

His knees buckled and he fell to the floor of the phone booth. Even nerve ending in his being roared, and Yuuri _wailed,_ helpless against them. The figure above him reached out slowly, and Yuuri tried to shrink away from his hand. But the gunman simply grabbed the phone from where it hung on the wall, and placed it back in the hanger, ending the 911 call. Yuuri watch the figure turn, silhouetted in the deep violet sky, before disappearing into the air. 

Panic suddenly locked about his ribs, and Yuuri stopped screaming, unable to find air. The night air was quiet, but all that Yuuri could hear was the pounding of his blood in his ears, impossibly fast. Despite the panic, his inched his back up the wall slowly, until his head was over his stomach. “This’s … gonna hurt,” he told himself quietly, and then pressed his hand to his stomach. The pain swelled again, and he cried out, the world swirling before his eyes. _It hurts. It hurts. It hurts-_ Yuuri growled, driving the thought out. 

Something almost felt as if it was hitting his hand, and Yuuri realized in a wave of nausea that he could feel blood pulsing against his palm as he cupped it over the first wound. 

_I’m gonna die,_ he realized. Tears gathered in his eyes, spilling over with nothing to stop them. _I’m gonna die._

_My mom._

_Phichit can’t keep the apartment without me paying rent._

Yuuri clamped his other hand over the second bullet wound in his stomach.

He heaved a long, deep moan through his teeth. 

The world flickered for a moment, and Yuuri gritted his teeth against the idea of blacking out; if he let himself pass out, he would go into shock, and if he went into shock, he was dead. _I’m dead anyway,_ he thought, but even that was getting difficult now; the inside of his mind was red with the deep, aching pain of his gut. The ceiling of the phone booth was miles away, and Yuuri watch, helpless, as it began to static at the edges, like an image on a bad TV set. 

_No. NO._

_Yuuri is floating in an ocean of anguish, and with every wave his heart rate grows slower, his head pounds louder, his hands slacken off of his wounds, the world swirls sickeningly across his vision, and then he’s sinking, and he hears nothing, and he feels nothing, and the top of the phone booth is just a speck of light above him. The world zooms out slowly as he descends._

“Officer Katsuki?” 

The voice was far off. 

_What am I doing?_

_I can’t die._

“Officer Katsuki.” 

Someone was shaking him. 

Yuuri blinked as hard as he could, and the world zoomed back in. 

His stomach still hurt; bile burned in the back of his throat. The light at the top of the phone booth swelled and Yuuri squinted against it. 

“Officer- what’s his first name? I can’t remember-” There was a voice from far off, answering the answer, something Yuuri couldn't discern. “Yuuri.Yuuri, can you hear me?”

There is a man crouching over him. 

His hair was silver, and the light from the top of the phone booth shone down and lit halo around his face. The eyes locked with Yuuri’s were bright blue, like ice, like the sea. 

“ _Are you an angel?_ ” Yuuri slurred. 

The man blinked, his forehead scrunching, and Yuuri realized that he’d spoken in Japanese instead English. He have flushed if not for the blood loss. 

_English. English. Can I speak in English? Do I even think in English?_ “I … I can …” the man’s face broke into a grin. “Mmm.” He didn't think he was going to die, at least, not immediately. “It was… shot me … is Tori …?” 

The silver haired man shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.” Yuuri nodded slowly. His vision was swimming again. 

“Can … you …” he stared at his stomach. The man was pressing his palms flat against the wounds, but blood was bubbling up between his fingers. “Tell my mom …”

“Yuuri, you’re going to be alright.” Even so, it was becoming harder and harder to hold his eyes open. “Yuuri?” 

A siren wailed in the background. “The ambulance is here. Yuuri?” The silver-haired man’s voice sounded far off. _I’m sorry,_ he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure what for. 

The light at the top of the phone booth became a tiny spark, and then flickered out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They called him Lovebird because he killed couples. 
> 
> There had only been two murders, and Yuuri had _known_ , he’d _known_ there was a risk, but still, he just hadn't _thought-_
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s nothing I can do now._

Yuuri woke up. 

He opened his eyes. It seemed the logical step, but the world was far too bright, and he scrunched them shut again. 

_Where am I? Where was I last?_

Yuuri concentrated. It was Friday night, and he was on his second day of duty. 

His stomach gave an unpleasant twang. Squinting against the light of the room, he craned his neck to look down at it, only to find his torso was covered in a white sheet. There was a deep, foreign ache, in his upper stomach, but he- couldn't quite-

_A song with deep, velvety vocals bouncing through the car._

_The shattering windshield, Tori’s bugged out eyes._

_The rough breaths that clawed through his chest as he spoke to the police._

_A too-tall figure with a tiny head._

_Am I dead?_

Yuuri took a shuddering breath in at the thought, and then cringed. It smelled like bleach and piss. In the background, Yuuri could hear a soft voice saying something to him. He concentrated, trying to listen. 

“... the most refreshing of tastes, for only ten cents! Be a pal, and buy your pal a Coke!” 

_This isn't the afterlife._

Yuuri forced his eyes open, and sighed. He was laying in a hospital bed. _Thank God._ He glanced to the left. There was a bedside table and a small window, fringed with washed-out blue curtains. Light streamed through, and bounced off the walls of the room, giving it the effulgence that Yuuri had closed his eyes against. The bed had a black metal rack around the edge; he assumed to keep him from falling out. A radio sat on the bedside table, blaring ads. He looked to the right. 

Hiroko Katsuki was sitting beside the bed, her eyes closed. Breath slipped slowly in and out of her mouth. Her cheeks looked gaunt, and her eyes were puffy and red. Yuuri reached from the bed, ignoring the deepening ache in his stomach as he moved, and placed a hand on her knee. She awoke with a start, and her blurry eyes stared at Yuuri as if she didn't know him. Then they widened, and Yuuri saw tears welling in them before she crumpled forward, into a fragmented hug (for Yuuri couldn't move his torso). He felt her crying silently into his shoulder, and knew that he’d upset his family more than he could imagine. When his mother finally looked up, all Yuuri could do was quickly sign, “ _Mom, I’m so sorry._ ”

“ _It’s alright,_ ” she told him. “ _You scared us._ ”

“ _Are Mari and Dad okay?_ ”

Hiroko wiped her eyes before signing, “ _They are worried, but they are okay._ ”

The door creaked as it opened, and a blonde woman in a nurse uniform smiled widely at Yuuri as he turned to look at her. “Mr. Katsuki, you’re awake.” Her voice was forced higher in pitch that seemed unnatural for her, and she pronounced his name “cat-SOO-key”, but Yuuri hardly minded. He offered her a small smile. “How long have I been … how long has it been since I was shot?” 

“Around 36 hours,” the nurse responded. 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes closed. 

_It’s Sunday morning._

_Okay._

The nurse took his vitals. Yuuri tried not to flinch away from her touch. When she was finished, Yuuri glanced up at her. 

“Can I speak with a doctor?” 

The nurse nodded, still smiling eerily wide. “I’ll bring him along right away.”

“And, uh.” The nurse, who’d walked to the doorway, turned again. “Was it him? Lovebird? Who shot me?”

The nurse’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m not sure of anything, Officer, but that’s the word on the street.” He nodded. “We’ll keep the police from the room as long as we can.”

“The police?” But the nurse was gone, the door closed. Yuuri turned to his mother. “ _Mom, why are the police here?_ ” 

Hiroko smiled, and her eyes look tired. “ _I think they want to ask you some questions._ ”

The police wanted something from him. Of course, he’d been shot by the most notorious serial killer in the nation. That meant a full scale questioning session, perhaps several, as soon as possible. Hiroko would have to leave the room, and she’d be replaced with a hundred stern, angry faces with beady, prying eyes. Yuuri fell back into his pillows and groaned. 

~•~

Lovebird was a nickname, because no one knew what the man’s real name was.

Until a month ago, he hadn't existed; the only evidence left of him was a dead couple in Oregon, with their heads blown apart. People talked about them, of course, murder wasn't common in Portland, but that’s all it was; murder. That was, until the hottest May that Yuuri had felt in years, and with the heat came another pair of bodies, slumped over the counter of their condo, with a hole in each of their foreheads. That was when people really started to talk. 

They called him Lovebird because he killed couples. 

There had only been two murders, and Yuuri had _known_ , he’d _known_ there was a risk, but still, he just hadn't _thought-_

 _There’s nothing I can do now._

Her parents had also been visitors today. They’d only come to tell him that Tori’s death was not on him, but Yuuri knew from the dark circles under their eyes and the shaking of their hands that forgiveness wasn't something they would offer to him any time soon. 

_Nothing I can do._

Yuuri wanted to be helpful, more than anything. He wanted to police to take him back and let him work on the case, or at least give him his patrol car. His stomach would take years to heal completely, though, and the police wouldn’t take him back unless he was healthy. _Completely_ healthy, which meant that the tears in his large intestine and pancreas would have to fully regenerate themselves. Yuuri squeezed his eyes closed again the sudden threat of tears. 

_I can’t work in the police force._

____

__The door to his room gave a faint squeak as it opened, and Yuuri’s eyes flickered open. He’d thought the police were finished with him; they’d already sent in at least five men to talk to him already. Perhaps it was also that he didn't want to relive the scene again, but Yuuri felt his mood plummet to new depths and he turned his head to the side sullenly, vowing silently that he would ignore this new arrival as long as he could._ _

__“Officer Katsuki.” The voice was deep and soft._ _

__There was a long silence that Yuuri knew he was supposed to fill. Eventually, he broke. “Is this really necessary?” he murmured._ _

__“I’m not here to ask you anything. I just wanted to know how you are,” the voice answered. _Who on Earth would …_ Yuuri turned his head to the other side to observe whoever was speaking. His breath caught in his throat. _ _

__The man had silver hair and blue eyes and _he leaned over Yuuri, the light above them casting a white, glowing halo around his head, and though his voice was calm and assuring, his blue eyes were wild and terrified as Yuuri’s blood bubbled between his fingers and across his hands-_ _ _

__Yuuri closer his eyes and took a deep breath in. There was a gentle pulse of pain his his gut, and he cupped his hand over it. “It’s you,” he said quietly, and he opened his eyes, just a bit, peaking at the man through his eyelashes. He was what Mari would describe as “eye candy”; his long, angular face, straight nose, and high cheekbones were certainly weren’t unpleasant. Yuuri glanced away._ _

__“I’m glad you’re doing better.” His voice was deeper than Yuuri remembered. There was a slight lilt to his words that could have been an accent, but it was very faint. “My name is Victor Nikiforov.” _He’s Russian._ “I work with the police.” _ _

__“I know that,” Yuuri mumbled. He still didn't want to look at Victor, so he kept his eyes glued to his toes at the end of the bed._ _

__Victor chuckled quietly, and Yuuri almost flinched. _His laugh is nice._ “You’re feeling alright? The pain isn't too bad?” _ _

__“I-it’s bad when the painkillers wear off, but I’ll be on them for a while, so I’m fine for now.” He tittered quietly. Nervously. _God, I hope I don't sound like a drug addict._ “They had to cut my whole stomach up to get everything right again,” he explained._ _

__Victor’s eyes widened in a mixture of horror and fascination. “Really?”_ _

__Yuuri nodded. Victor held his gaze for a long moment, before shifting it. _He’s got something to say._ “Is simple visiting the only reason you’re here?” _ _

__Victor seemed to perk up slightly, but his eyes were curious as they rest on Yuuri. “Yes. Of course. I, well, I was recently added to a task force, whose objective is to catch Lovebird and bring him to justice.” Yuuri tensed slightly at the name._ _

__“How recently?”_ _

__“Three hours ago. I've barely had time to move my things.” It was Yuuri’s turn to laugh, and he giggled gently. Victor seemed to pause for a moment, before he resumed speaking. “They, uh, want me to question you.”_ _

__Any remaining happiness on Yuuri’s features slipped away, leaving something tired and angry. “You said-”_ _

__“Not today, I know you’re tired,” Victor added quickly. “Tomorrow.”_ _

__Yuuri gave a pleasant gasp. “ _Thank_ you. I-I really am tired.” _ _

__“I figured you’d be,” Victor replied with a small smile._ _

__“Won't your boss be angry?”_ _

__Victor visibly cringed. “It’s possible.”_ _

__“I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Don’t worry about it.”_ _

__There was a tense silence, in which a small bit of information occurred to Yuuri._ _

__“Everyone else said they wanted to talk today so that the memories didn't fade.”_ _

__Victor laughed humorlessly and raised an eyebrow. “The memories you have aren't going to fade, are they?” Yuuri pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. No, they weren’t going to fade. Not from Yuuri, not anytime soon._ _

__“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Victor said quietly. It was a phrase he’d heard a multitude of times throughout the day, but Victor’s face scrunched into a frown was more moving than average. Yuuri was about to thank him when Victor sat up and pushed his chair back suddenly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and all of a sudden, he winked knowingly. Yuuri’s stomach twisted, and he was sure it wasn't because of the gunshot wounds. He gave an awkward little wave as Victor closed the door behind himself with a final look back. A few moments passed, and then Yuuri felt his face flush a little._ _

___He’s pretty._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feed back on the first chapter, I really appreciate it!! This one's a bit slower in pace lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yuuri finished with Lovebird walking away from him, he’d gone very pale. He blinked, then looked up expectantly, but Victor was frowning. “What happened after that?”
> 
> “Well, uh …” no one else had wanted this part of the story. “I sort of sat there, bleeding out, and … I felt like I was sinking, and the world was leaving me, and then you came along, and I snapped back to my senses for a bit, I suppose, and then you know the rest.” 
> 
> A small smile touched Victor’s lips “You’re very brave, you know.”
> 
> Yuuri flushed.

“Do we have Yuuri’s phone call on tape?”

Chris looked up. Victor had jumped from referring to their witness as “Mr. Katsuki” to using his first name. _Interesting._ “Hello to you too,” he replied. 

“Chris.”

He gave a low chortle. Victor was impatient. Had his talk with Mr. Katsuki been unpleasant? “Yes, we’ve got it.”

“Can I listen to it?”

Very impatient. “Not my division, dearest. Ask Mila.” Victor nodded. 

“Alright,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Sorry. Bad day.”

“You and rest of us,” Chris called after him, but Victor was already gone from his line of sight.

Victor had been yanked from his dusty, warm office that afternoon, and escorted to the other side of the police office. That space was enormous, and it wasn't _private,_ which he resented. The ceiling was high, and the air conditioning was on full blast at any given time. It was at least ten degrees cooler than any other part of the building, which Victor also resented. There were no windows to the outside, and the only light in the room came from a collection of flickering orange light bulbs that hung above each work space. Victor and Mila’s seats were right next to each other; Mila had herself situated, while Victor’s belongings were still stuffed into a cluttered box that sat on his otherwise bare workspace. 

When Victor asked for the tape, Mila’s expression warped and faltered slightly, but she had the tape on hand, thankfully, and she set it up quickly. “It’s a bit …” Mila grimaced as she handed Victor a pair of headphones. “Well. It’s what you’d expect.” Victor nodded, staring at the headphones warily before placing them on his head. He gave Mila a thumbs up. The tape began to play. 

The tape clicked a few times, and then there was a loud clunk, and the sound of heavy breath filled the air. Victor closed his eyes. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

A deep breath.

“This is Yuuri Katsuki.” Victor’s eyes flickered open for a moment. Yuuri sounded _awful;_ his voice was scratchy, high and wavery. It was the voice of someone on the verge of tears. The tape continued. “I’m on the west edge of Oakland, in an parking lot next to a …”There was a pause and Victor heard Yuuri gulp in a lungfull of air. “It’s an abandoned store and parking lot. Someone shot my date through the windshield of my car and I think he’s coming toward me …” his voice had slowly been getting faster throughout the recording, and at the end of the sentence he dropped off, leaving the recording eerily silent. “He’s here.” A broken whisper. 

There was a clatter, and then silence. Victor could still hear Yuuri's breathing, but it was faint, far off. 

One second went by.

Another. 

There was a shift on the other end of the phone call, and then, “Sir, are you still there? Sir?”

A deep gulp of air. 

“N-no.” A jumble of sound that didn't sound right came through the headphones. Victor frowned, but his confusion was shattered quickly with a _Bang!_ that made him flinch and gasp. Beside him, Mila nodded once and went back to her work. 

There was a loud crash as, Victor assumed, Yuuri fell to the ground. The sound of gasping because closer, but the sounds were quiet, and further apart.He barely had time to think, _He’s going into shock,_ before there was another earth-shattering _Bang!_ filling his ears.

Silence, and again, a loud gasp.

And then Yuuri began to scream, and Victor understood why his voice had been so soft when they’d spoken in the hospital. 

The sounds were that of a dying man.

Like that of an animal.

_This is how it must sound in hell,_ Victor though.

The recording shut off abruptly with a loud clunk. Victor removed his headphones. 

“Yuuri claims that whoever attacked him, and we’re pretty sure it's Lovebird at this point, reached over him and hung up the phone.” Mila took the tape from its player and placed it into a yellow envelope, which she had left on her desk. 

“Jesus,” Victor replied. It was difficult to imagine Yuuri making those sounds, but still they rang about in his head. “What happened in the bit right after he says ‘no’? I couldn't tell what the sound was.”

“The people who interviewed Yuuri said that he claimed to be begging for his life.” 

“That didn't sound like English.” 

Mila nodded, and, what seemed to be impossibly quickly, she rose from her seat and swung at Victor’s head as hard as she could. “ _Jesus fuck!_ ” Victor snapped, ducking. He slid backward, gasping, and Mila grinned at him. “What was that for?”

“When we’re scared, our first language is often the first thing we spit out. We’re having a linguist check what Yuuri was saying in that clip.”

Victor mulled over this for a moment. “Alright.” 

“Mmm.”

“I cursed in Russian?”

“Mmm.” Mila pulled another case file from her desk. This one was thick; Victor grunted quietly when she placed it in his hands, along with the tape. “Dig in. It’s gonna be a long night.”

~•~

Yuuri was the only surviving victim of the Lovebird case, and he was also the strangest. 

Every other victim had been shot once in the head with a 9mm. pistol; Yuuri had been shot twice, in the stomach. At the other two crime scenes, the couples had died seconds apart, while Yuuri had gotten maybe a minute before he’d been shot. Tori and Yuuri were the third and fourth victims to have been shot at through a window, but since other bodies had been found outside, this was likely a coincidence. Yuuri and Tori were also the first couple that hadn't been white. The strangest bit, though, was that there had been evidence found at Yuuri’s crime scene; the other two had been spotless, except for a couple experts claiming the shatter pattern of Couple #2’s window glass was strange. That was so miniscule that it wasn't mentioned often, but the evidence found at the third crime scene wasn’t small at all.

A small symbol had been drawn in blood on the window of the phone booth. 

“What?” Was Yuuri’s incredulous response when Victor showed him the file the next day. “I don't remember that at all.” 

“It’s possible that there was a moment you looked away from the attacker, right? You would have been pretty focused on your stomach wound at the time.”

“I guess.” Yuuri shrugged as well as he could. His face was doubting and worried. 

Victor pulled a photo from the file, and held in up to the light. “What does this look like to you?”

Yuuri blinked. “I mean … it’s just two lines intersecting.” It wasn’t completely upright, but one line was a bit longer than the other. “A cross, if I’d have to guess.” 

Victor nodded. “The running theory is that the killings are religiously motivated, and this would really drive it home.” The last word was clipped, as if Victor didn’t want to let the whole thing out. Yuuri glanced up at his face. His lips were pursed and his blue eyes were wide. 

“You weren't supposed to tell me that, were you.”

“No, I was not.”

“I won't tell.”

“Thank you.” Victor opened the folder onto the bed spread. “Is it alright if I place this across you legs? There’s no space anywhere else.” Yuuri nodded. “Alright. I’m sorry about this, but I’m going to have to have you go through and explain how it went down again.” Yuuri’s expression twisted a little bit. “I wish I didn't have to-”

“I know. It’s alright.” He took a deep breath in. “Let’s see. I was in the back seat of my friend Phichit’s car. He’d let me borrow it for the date. We were...You know, kissing and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“It was going to turn into sex, the way it was headed.” Yuuri swallowed forcefully. Having sex with Tori would have excited him to no end last week, but all he saw now was her crumpled corpse when the name passed through his lips. He cleared his throat. “Well, she sat up, and I suppose you could see us through the front window. And then, well, the glass on the windshield shattered and I curled onto my side. I, uh, opened my eyes, and she was crouching above me and-” her eyes bulged horribly from her head- “she had the strangest-” her cheeks were pale as snow and her mouth gaped so wide that it looked as if she were a clay model that had been pulled long and left to hang- “uh,” Yuuri gritted his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

Victor placed a hand on Yuuri’s wrist; he flinched slightly, and looked away. A bead of sweat had collected on his forehead. “It’s alright … what happened just then, if you don't mind me asking?” Victor had been through Yuuri’s medical conditions; he shouldn't have been prone to something like this.

“I … it might be better to talk to a doctor about it. I’m not quite sure that it is yet.” That was all he wanted to say on the subject. The adrenaline shocks that came with the scenes, the suddenness of them, that he would leave for the doctor to explain. “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. Where was I?” 

“Tori’s just been shot.” 

He nodded quickly, and licked his lips. Victor could see him fiddling with his fingers, using his right thumb nail to trace around the cuticles of his left fingers, then switching hands. A nervous habit, perhaps. “She fell over onto her side, and I saw that she’s been shot …”

When Yuuri finished with Lovebird walking away from him, he’d gone very pale. He blinked, then looked up expectantly, but Victor was frowning. “What happened after that?”

“Well, uh …” no one else had wanted this part of the story. “I sort of sat there, bleeding out, and … I felt like I was sinking, and the world was leaving me, and then you came along, and I snapped back to my senses for a bit, I suppose, and then you know the rest.” 

A small smile touched Victor’s lips “You’re very brave, you know.”

Yuuri flushed. 

Victor reached for the folder, and began flicking through it. “I’ve got a bunch of questions that were put together by the task force, do you mind if I ..?”

“Go ahead.” 

“I want you to know that I’m not in any position to speculate on any answers you give me, and that I simply need you to be completely honest.”

“Thank you. Go ahead.”

Victor cleared his throat. “Are you particularly religious?” 

“No.” 

“Where do you live and who do you live with?”

“In an apartment on the east side of Oakland, with my roommate mate, Phichit.”

“What is your relationship with your roommate?” They both cringed at that. “I’m sorry,” Victor added quickly. 

“He’s my roommate and my friend. So, strictly platonic.” Except for the experimenting in high school. But no one was counting that. 

“Was this your first date with Tori Katayama?”

“Yes.”

“How well did you know her?”

Yuuri frowned. “I knew _about_ her, I suppose. We’d met a few times. She never paid attention to me before I got the job.”

“We have several accounts of you speaking in Japanese, is that your first language?”

“I spoke both Japanese and English growing up.” Yuuri let the reason for the question turn over in his mind for a moment.

“Do you owe anyone money?”

“I owe the bank some loans for college, but not besides that.”

“Have you ever been outside of the country?” 

“No. Victor,” and his big brown eyes hardened as he look up, “do you all think I’m a spy?”

Victor winced. Yuuri’s accusatory gaze burned into him, but he held it. “I don’t. I can't speak for the rest of the task force, though.” Yuuri sighed, and clenched his jaw. Victor glanced through the rest of the questions “These are awful.” 

“Who put them together, again?”

Victor thought for a moment, then cringed slightly. “We added questions that we individually needed answered, but the head of the task force put them all together.”

“Who’s the head of the task force?”

“Paul Clement.”

Yuuri’s stomach sank. “He served in-”

“The war, yes.” Victor looked down at his feet. 

_Fuck._

~•~

A few days later, Yuuri sat up for the first time in what seemed like ages. He wasn't allowed to stand yet, but hospital bills were stacking up, and the nurses had reluctantly released him along with a large supply of painkillers. He had been fitted for a back brace that restricted any form of movement, and a nurse pushed him in a wheelchair to the front of the hospital. “Thank you, I can take it from here.” As well as he could, Yuuri grasped his wheels and pushed himself forward. His stomach gave an angry twinge. He ignored it. There was a phone in a far corner of the room, and Yuuri locked his eyes onto it, hoping his father would be home from work and could come to pick him up. _I could probably call Phichit as well,_ he thought, before remembering that Phichit’s car was currently being run through every kind of forensic analysis known to man. Yuuri slowed next to the phone, and almost rolled his eyes as a wave of adrenaline rolled through his hands. The phone was nothing like the one in the phone booth. It was a simple call. A phone call to his father. “Alright,” Yuuri murmured to himself. An anxiety plagued adolescence and adulthood had left him with a certain amount of skill at managing his overwhelming panic. “Alright, come on.”

“Yuuri?” 

He flinched and swung the wheelchair around. Victor was standing about ten feet behind him, a small smile of recognition across his face. 

“V-” _Nope._ “Uhm, hah, Mr. Nikiforov!” _Great. He thinks you’re a wreck._

Victor only smiled, and approached him. “Out of bed, I see.”

“Hospital bills are quite a lot.” _Shouldn’t have said that. Now he thinks you’re a broke wreck._ Yuuri let out a nervous giggle. “Besides, I miss home.” 

“Are you going to live with your parents for a bit?”

“Yes, but just until I can take care of myself properly. Phichit will need me to help with rent eventually.” 

Victor nodded. “Do you need a ride?”

Yuuri pursed his lips and stared out the window, to the road outside. “What day is it, again?”

“Wednesday.” 

Yuuri’s father worked through the day on Wednesday. Yuuri bit his lips. Could Mari drive him home? No, she was on a date today; he remembered she’d been so excited when she’d told him. There was no way he could contact his mother; she wouldn't even hear the phone ring, and if there was any chance she saw it vibrate, she wouldn't be able to speak or receive anything. _God, I’m pathetic._

“Yes, I think I need a ride.” It came out as a tiny whisper. “Are you offering?”

Victor’s smile widened. “Of course.”

It was a pain to get Yuuri into a car. First, Yuuri hobbled from the wheelchair to the car seat, and set himself down gently. As he buckled himself into the car, Victor folded up the wheelchair and placed it in the back seat of the van, before slipping to the driver’s seat. It was a cop car, which meant it wasn't super spacey; in fact, Yuuri was surprised that Victor could fit the wheelchair in the back at all. The interior was nicer than Yuuri’s cop car had been, but there was a faint scent that he recognized lingering around the leather seats: alcohol. Yuuri smiled faintly, and didn't mention it. 

“What’s the address?” Victor asked as he pulled out of his driving spot. Yuuri rattled it off. Victor nodded, as if he knew exactly where that was. Yuuri felt a thin layer of sweat accumulating on his palms. The car was small, and Victor was very pretty. 

“There’s a map inside the glove box, can you get it for me?” _Knew it._ Yuuri did so. He eyed the gun that rested inside of it before closing the glove box. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

There was a long silence. 

“We had more questions.” Yuuri almost flinched. “About the shooting. It’s like once we answer one, two more appear. It would almost be better if we could just keep you in the room to run things over.” 

“I am looking for a new job.” Yuuri offered a smile, but it was devoid of feeling. “The police don't employ officers that freak out at the sight of telephones.” Victor’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. You can asked whatever you want when we get to my parent’s house.” 

“Telephones scare you?” 

“They do now.” 

Victor mulled this over. “Oh, because of the-”

“Yes. Can we talk about something else?” Yuuri was tracing his cuticles again. _I made him anxious._ , Victor thought, annoyed with himself. His mind scrambled for another topic of conversation. 

“Sure. What do you ... like to do for fun?”

It was a childish request, but Yuuri bit his lip and thought. “Well, I like to cook. My mom taught me a lot of dishes, and I usually cook for Phichit when we can afford ingredients. I like learning new languages, too.” 

“Which ones do you you know?” 

Yuuri frowned. “Well, I know English and Japanese. I have a pretty good grip on Spanish, and I can understand Thai when it’s spoken around me. I know ASL and JSL … and I’m studying French right now.” 

Victor peeked up visibly. “ _Parle vous français?_ ”

Yuuri smiled, and frowned for a fraction of a second before answering, “ _J'apprends encore, mais oui._ ”

Victor laughed, delighted. “Is it easy for you to pick up new languages?”

“Moderately. I’ve never gotten absolutely fluent in anything besides English and Japanese, really, but the others come pretty easily. Do you know any other languages besides English and French?”

The smile in Victor’s face slacked, though only a little. “Russian,” he answered. 

“Oh!” He blinked at Yuuri’s light tone. “Russian’s on my list after Swedish.” 

Victor clapped a hand over his chest in false offense. “Russian is _way_ better than Swedish!” 

Yuuri laughed. “How so?”

Victor thought for a moment. “Russian’s complicated. It’s extremely difficult to learn.”

“Japanese is debatably the most difficult language to learn for native English speakers. Besides, Swedish sounds beautiful.”

“So does Russian! And Japanese is your first language.” 

“Is Russian not yours?” Victor pursed his lips. “Check and mate.”

“Is this your parent’s house up here?” _He’s changing the subject; I win._ Yuuri glanced out the window, and nodded. The squat, brick house brought a wave of nostalgia along with it, and Yuuri smiled a little. Victor pulled into an empty parking space a few feet from the house, and reached into the glove box again. He fumbled for a bit, before retrieving a familiar folder from the depths of it. The folder was overflowing with papers now, and Yuuri sat for a full two minutes as Victor leafed through it. “Ah! Here it is.” He pulled a sheet of paper from amid the hundreds of others. He glanced up at Yuuri, and his eyes shone bright turquoise in the light. “Are you ready?”

Yuuri nodded. _Breathe._ “Yes.” 

“Had you felt that someone was watching you during the day you were attacked?”

“No.”

“Are your parents religious?”

“Yes.”

“What religion do your parents practice?” 

“Shinto.” 

“Is your room mate religious?”

“Yes.”

“What religion does he practice?” 

“Um. Lutheran Christianity.” 

“Do you have any relatives in the States besides your parents and your sister?” 

“No. My parents are immigrants, so the rest of our family is still in Japan.” 

“Were you particularly visible from the windshield of Phichit- Am I pronouncing that correctly?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s more Pih-chit.” 

“Alright. Before Tori sat up, were you visible from outside of Phichit’s car, particularly through the windshield?”

_Was I …?_ “I don’t think so.” No, he’d even been self conscious about people seeing them. He was almost certain that no one who glanced into the window could see the two of them. “Actually, she sat up a few times. But only for a few seconds.” 

Victor’s hair fell across his nose as he leaned down to write. He sniffed quietly, wrinkled his nose, and then let out a tiny sneeze. 

“Bless you.” _That was cute._

“Thanks. Uhm.” Victor squinted at the paper. “Have you ever been involved in a television broadcast, radio show, or any other means of broadcasting yourself?”

“No.”

“Were you and Tori exhibiting signs of physical affection before you entered the car?”

“Yes.” They’d gone to see a drive-in movie and Tori’s hand had been placed high up Yuuri’s thigh the whole time.

“Before you entered the car, was there another person you saw around you that stood out to you?” 

“No, but movies have always left me a bit dazed. I wasn't paying much attention to our surroundings.”

“Alright. This next one might be difficult for you.” Yuuri braced himself. “After you’d been shot, and Lovebird had left,” _they’re pretty sure it’s him, then,_ Yuuri note, “did you notice any cars going by?” 

“I don’t … think so.” Yuuri didn't want to think back, but the strongest sense besides the pain had been that he was alone, absolutely alone, and that he didn't want to die. “I’m pretty sure no one else was there.” 

“Alright. That’s all I’ve got for you right now.” 

_Thank God._ Yuuri forced a smile. “Thank you again for the ride. I expect you’ll be calling on me again?”

Victor offered him a half hearted grin in return, his face catching the light, and Yuuri was struck again by how incredibly attractive he was. “I’m really sorry, Yuuri-”

“You’ve already apologized, and it’s not your fault,” Yuuri interrupted gently. “Besides, maybe if I relive it enough times, it’ll be less traumatic to me.” 

Victor’s face visibly fell. “I could have phrased that better,” Yuuri murmured. 

Victor laughed. “It’s alright.” For a moment, the air was light and forgiving. 

_He’s pretty._

“I-I have to go-”

“Right, let me get your wheelchair.” _Right. The wheelchair._ Victor slipped from the car and yanked it forcefully from the back seat. _I knew it wouldn't fit._ “Thank you,” Yuuri said. He opened the door and maneuvered himself into it. “I’ll see you soon?” 

“Yeah,” Victor smiled. Yuuri stared him for a moment longer, before he clutched the wheels of his chair and wheeled himself away. Victor watched as he opened the door, and disappeared inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL HAVE BEEN SO SUPPORTIVE?? WHAT??? bless y'all i have never gotten so much sweet feedback in my life. Love you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri heard someone in the other room getting up, before Mari laughed and said, “Let Yuuri get it, he needs the practice.” The thought of walking anymore made Yuuri’s bones ache, but he shoved himself from the bed, and wobbled out of the room. Since the hall to the front door was moderately thin, he was able to run his hand along the wall for support as he approached. “I was kidding, Yuuri, I can get it.” Mari sauntered over, moving at least twice as fast as Yuuri was able to. She swung the door open. “Can I help you?” 
> 
> “Hello.” Yuuri almost gasped. “Is Yuuri home?”
> 
> Mari turned to look back at her brother. “ _Yuuri, there’s a piece of eye candy at the door for you_ ,” she drawled in Japanese. Yuuri flushed and Mari grinned.

The Katsuki household was quiet and cozy. Since the return of their son, Hiroko and Toshiya had heated the house as much as Yuuri wanted, and cooked his favorite food every night. Yuuri knew they wanted to make him feel better, but all that it really did was make him feel like a guest. He wasn't to be a visitor in his parents’ house; he’d grown up here. 

_It can’t be helped._

Yuuri had gotten himself into an armchair with a book. He wasn't an avid reader, but his mother had sworn up and down that the book was amazing. That, and he’d been thinking about Victor with a sinking stomach for nearly an hour, and he needed a distraction. 

Realizing that he was attracted to men as well as women had come as a punch to the stomach in tenth grade, when he’d walked into what should have been an empty classroom to the sight of Phichit and Kenneth Douglas, one of the linebackers, sucking face. He remembered the flush of heat to his face that had resonated a moment before the boys had jumped apart. “I won’t tell,” Yuuri had blurted. Phichit had just stared at him, eyes wide with panic, while Kenneth bustled from the room. Later, Yuuri learned that the two were dating. This was something he wasn't allowed to tell, either. That was the first interaction he’d ever had with Phichit, and the last one that he had had with Kenneth, who avoided him for the rest of the year. 

Somehow, miraculously, this interaction turned Yuuri and Phichit into friends. Yuuri was almost positive that Phichit had originally stuck around him to make sure he wouldn’t snitch and expose the two of them to the whole school, but once they began to come to each other for advice, that fear gradually disappeared. Yuuri began to suspect that he might like guys a little, so the first person he told was Phichit. He had been Yuuri’s first guy-crush, and with those feelings came the realization that he couldn't be totally honest with anyone. Being any form of gay was all about secrets, that was the first thing Yuuri learned. You weren’t supposed to talk about it in public, even if you whispered, and PDA was completely unheard of. If you were lucky, you’d find an apartment that you could share without anyone asking questions. Beyond that, though, it was something that he had to accept as who he was. It was difficult; Yuuri had wanted to suppress the feelings he experienced, but Phichit wouldn't let him. Phichit had shaken him by the shoulders once, after he’d cried about wanting be something else, and told him to embrace himself as he was. Yuuri had promised him that he would do the best he could. 

So, the whole Victor thing wasn't something he would push down.

He didn’t _want_ to suppress it, either. Feelings aren't bad; they were kind of fun, if things never got serious. Not that Yuuri had ever “gotten serious” with anyone. Excluding Tori, who he didn't want to think about ever again.

Still, it was different with Victor. They were technically still coworkers, until the police inevitably decided to fire him, which made it inappropriate. Yuuri had never liked anyone he’d worked with, so this was somewhat foreign territory. He wouldn't pursue, obviously, there was no way that he liked guys, hardly anyone did. Besides, he could hardly see roman-god-face-silky-hair-sapphire-eyes Victor falling for him, a chubby mess of a guy who currently lived with his parents and couldn't walk without help. 

_Ugh._

Hiroko tapped him on the knee. “ _Are you alright? You have been staring at the wall for a while._ ”

Yuuri looked down at the book she’d recommended to him. It was laying face down on his chest. _Nice._

~•~

“Oh my God.” 

Yuri Plisetsky dropped his grocery bags on the kitchen floor and cannonballed onto the couch. Victor, who had been laying on the couch, felt all of the air in his lungs leave. He lay, gasping, as Yuri glared down at him. “Mila said you were working, which is the only reason I bought food.”

“I- Oh Jesus- I _was_ working.” 

“You’re laying on the couch.” 

“I’m thinking. Detective work generally requires it.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I bought potatoes and leeks. We’re having soup tonight.” Since Victor couldn't cook a piece of toast properly, Yuri generally did the cooking about the house. This had made him into a good chef, and it was also something that he could hold over Victor’s head. 

Victor smiled, but then paused. “Did you use your money or mine?” 

“Your’s.” Yuri climbed off of Victor’s stomach, making sure he felt every prod of his knees and hands, and padded into the kitchen. 

“Ugh. You’re awful, Yuri.” 

“Shouldn't have made me hang out with Sara and Mila while you were staying at work. All they did the entire time was cuddle. It was boring. And I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Last time I left you to yourself, you locked Makkachin in my room and ate absolutely everything in the entire house. Anyway, I was making sure other Yuuri didn't die, which is more important.” 

Yuri paused, before pulling a potato peeler from a drawer in Victor’s kitchen. “How is he?” 

“I drove him home from the hospital today, actually. He’s staying with his family until he’s healed up.” 

Victor heard all the noise in the kitchen cease and knew that he shouldn't have mentioned it. Then Yuuri began to slice the peeled potato into pieces. “Any more info on Lovebird?” His voice was steady. 

“No.” Victor sat up, and curled his legs under himself. 

Yuri and Victor lived in a small, one story house. The roof needed repairing, and the paint of the outside peeled in some places, but it was enough of a home for Victor and his 15 year old companion. He never thought he’d never have to deal with another damned _sophomore_ once he graduated from high school, but when you’ve got a huge house to yourself, and your neighbor has nowhere to stay, one simply has to take initiative. Yuri was a good kid, if you could forgive his attitude.

“Are you gonna keep interrogating other Yuuri?”

Victor flinched at Yuri’s choice in words. “I don't interrogate him, I ask him the questions that the task force puts together for me, and then I make note of his behavior and word choice. It’s only interrogating if he doesn't cooperate. Anyways, I think Yuuri’s told us nearly everything he can, but we still need more answers from him. It would almost be easier if he was part of the task force.”

Yuuri had begun to chop an onion, and he sniffled before asking, “Then why don't you ask him to join?” 

Victor frowned and shook his head. “Because we … well, I don't know. He wouldn't really do much but answer questions. He doesn't have a degree in anything we could use.”

“Neither does Mila. She’s on the task force, right?” 

“Mila’s extremely intelligent. We need her.”

“You haven't talked about other Yuuri like he’s a dumbass.” 

Victor thought for a moment. “That’s true, I haven't seen his IQ, but he does seem intelligent. And we do need someone to help with … damn, what’s the name for it? When you take two things and compare them so that-” 

“That’s cross referencing, old man.” 

“I don't appreciate that, Yuri.” 

“You weren't meant to.”

Victor thought for a long moment. “You know, it might be useful to have him around. I’ll just have to convince Clement that we need him _enough_ for him to look past his racist ideas about Japanese people.” 

Yuri laughed heartily. “Good luck with that, you poor old bastard.” 

“I don’t appreciate that either, Yuri.” 

Yuri ignored this. “Oh! Victor, the head chef at work said he’ll consider me for a position in the kitchen once I turn sixteen.” 

Victor gasped. “ _Really?_ Yuri, that’s _amazing!_ ” He launched himself from the couch and swept Yuri into a hug, laughing as he squirmed out of Victor’s grip. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Yuri made a gagging noise. “Get out of the kitchen before your very presence ruins my cooking.” Victor left, still chortling. He shuffled through the old, rundown house, before reaching his room. From the bedside table, Victor pulled a notebook, and he curled up on his bed before he began to write.

**How would one go about asking Yuuri onto the task force?**

~•~

Two weeks passed, and after a long and tedious check up at the hospital, Yuuri was deemed able to walk, and the wheelchair was taken back. Yuuri had told his parents that it really wasn't a big deal, and that he didn't want them to act like it was. So they’d acted accordingly, and invited two people. 

At first, when he tried to stand, his knees wobbled drastically, and he clung to Phichit’s shoulders. “I’m gonna fall.”

Phichit grinned. “I’ve got you. Do you want to take a step forward?” Yuuri nodded. Phichit shifted back a step, and Yuuri, on instinct, followed him. 

Both of his parents began to applaud, while Mari, who sat on the far side of the couch, flashed him a thumbs up. Minako smiled, but she didn't look impressed. Yuuri gritted his teeth. “Phichit, let’s walk around a little.”

Phichit raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Yuuri nodded again. “Make sure I don't smack into anything.” 

“Got it.” They took a step forward, then another. “There we go. You’ve got it.” Yuuri’s knees were wobbling like an old mans, but as Phichit’s grip on his arms became lighter, he could still hold himself up. He made a full lap around the kitchen table on his own, before slumping into a chair. Phichit clapped his hands excitedly. “You’ve got it! You got it!” Yuuri laughed quietly. 

Next, it was Minako’s turn to deal with him. She had the most experience with muscle development, so the family silently pleaded with her to look at Yuuri’s legs and give them her best advice. She sat on his bed, staring at him for a full minute, before she spoke. 

“I’m not a physical therapist.” 

Yuuri snorted loudly. “We can’t afford a physical therapist, Minako.” 

“I know, I know. I just don't want to do anything can't be reversed.” She chewed her lip. “I’ll tell you what; go on short walks everyday. Right now, I’d say you should just go down the street a few times and then rest. Once you feel up to it, go farther. Does that sound alright?”

“What about the back brace?” 

“Keep that shit on unless I tell you to take it off. Or if you have to bathe or something.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and,” Minako bit her lip, “I know you don't want to hear this, but I’d advise that you don't go back to work.” 

Yuuri’s stomach clenched, but he forced a smile. “I don't think they’ll take me back.”

“That’s possible, but if they come calling, turn them down. You should have the brace off in a month or so, but being up and about all the time will prolong the time that you’ll have to use it.” 

_Prolong the amount of time I’ll be looked at like a kicked puppy._

_I’m never going to help my family._

_I’m useless._

“Alright,” he said. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Yuuri heard someone in the other room getting up, before Mari laughed and said, “Let Yuuri get it, he needs the practice.” The thought of walking anymore made Yuuri’s bones ache, but he shoved himself from the bed, and wobbled out of the room. Since the hall to the front door was moderately thin, he was able to run his hand along the wall for support as he approached. “I was kidding, Yuuri, I can get it.” Mari sauntered over, moving at least twice as fast as Yuuri was able to. She swung the door open. “Can I help you?” 

“Hello.” Yuuri almost gasped. “Is Yuuri home?”

Mari turned to look back at her brother. “ _Yuuri, there’s a piece of eye candy at the door for you_ ,” she drawled in Japanese. Yuuri flushed and Mari grinned. 

Yuuri stumbled as quickly as he could to the door, almost falling, and swung about to face the doorway. Victor’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Yuuri! You’re out of your wheelchair!” A delighted smile stretched across his face. _His mouth is heart shaped,_ Yuuri thought incredulously. 

“I am,” he smiled back. Victor's eyes wandered behind him, and Yuuri came to the realization that his entire family, including Phichit and Minako, were sitting on the couch, staring at them. “Listen, I know the questioning is important, but it’s kind of a bad time, so do you think you could come over tomorrow, or-”

“O-oh, no, it’s not about the questioning. I have a job offer for you.” 

Yuuri and Minako exchanged a wide eyed glance. “What is it?” he asked quietly. 

Victor smiled. “We want you to join the Lovebird task force.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all r so nice ,,,,,,,,,,, fam this has never happened to me before wow wowo wowowowo........ okay my tumblr u can contact me @ is https://squigg-les.tumblr.com/ (its mostly my voltron fan art srry) if u wanna know stuff abt me and all that! love u guys and stay tuned for the next chapter!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think I scared him?” 
> 
> Yuri looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Who?” 
> 
> “Other Yuuri. I guess I kinda just appeared at his house.” 
> 
> “Yeah, you probably scared the shit out of him.” Victor choked on his Cheerios. Yuri snorted at the look on his face. “What?” 
> 
> Victor coughed. “You’re so insensitive.”

“You want … what?” 

Victor’s eyes were nervous. “We’d like for you to work with us, full time, to catch Lovebird.” Yuuri’s grip on the doorway tightened. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You can think about it for a while if you need to.” 

Minako gave him a _look_ , the kind of look that his friends described as the look their mothers give them. Yuuri’s mother was much too sweet of a woman to ever hit him with something so soul-crushing, but Minako made up for her. _Yuuri,_ the terrible look said, _don’t you dare._

_But …_

“I … I’m still helpful to the investigation?” He heard Minako let out an exasperated sigh, and ignored it. 

Victor’s eyes widened in delight. “You’ll consider it?” 

“Of course,” Yuuri found himself saying. “I’d do anything I can to help forward the investigation.” Victor’s heart-shaped grin stretched across his face, and Yuuri smiled back, if a bit hesitantly. _What am I doing?_ “I’ll have to get a professional opinion on the state of my body before signing anything- oh, Jeez, I’m kind of just beginning to be able to totter around here, are you sure-” 

“The majority of what we do is in the sitting down position.” _Then maybe …_ “Just … give it some thought, alright?” 

“Of course! Thank you so much for stopping by.” Victor gave him a smile, before closing the door. Yuuri breathed out. 

_Here it comes._

“Yuuri, did I not just specifically tell you not to take a job?” Minako’s sharp voice cut through the air. He slowly turned to her, a hesitant, sheepish smile etched across his face. This was met with a glare that could have killed God. “How will you get to work?” 

“There’s a direct bus route from this street to the police station.” 

“You’ll have to walk a lot.” 

“You just said that walking could be good for me!” 

“Not- like _that_ , Yuuri!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, it’s ultimately your decision. Just, think about it for a while. I don't want you to damage your body permanently, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I know. I haven't made up my mind or anything, Minako.” 

She passed him on her way to the door. “I know. And I’m proud of you. Tell Hiroko thank you for inviting me, but I’ve got to get home.” Yuuri quickly signed the message to his mother, who nodded and smiled. “Take care, Yuuri.” 

“Goodbye.” The door closed behind her, and before the rest of the family decided to pitch in their two cents, Yuuri turned on his heel and stumbled back to his bedroom. He climbed on his bed, and rolled onto his back, ignoring the way the back brace dug into his spine. _What have I gotten myself into?_

He had to find an actual physical therapist to consult. Minako had been in the dance scene for years, and she’s definitely seen her fair share of injuries, but Yuuri needed someone professional to assess his physical stability if he was going to go back into the field. Not someone to go to regularly, the costs of his two week hospital stay were staggering on their own, but one appointment with someone. He could afford to do that. 

Then there was the harsh reality that he would not get to forget his run-in with Lovebird as quickly as he’d anticipated. Well, he’d already figured that he would never really _forget_ the fact that a serial killer had shot him twice in the stomach, but the longer he went without it being brought up, the less the memories jarred him. In this job, those memories would be dug up and shoveled through _every day._ Not to mention Paul Clements, head of the task force, and veteran of World War II, had a heavy bias against Japanese people. (He also hated Germans, but that wasn't really something Yuuri concerned himself with.) It wouldn't be a welcoming job. 

But none of that really mattered, because _if there’s anything I can do to stop people from having to go through what I went through, I have to do it!_

_Even if I have to deal with a boss that hates my guts for no reason._

_Even if it destroys my body even further._

Yuuri thought this, believed it, even, but he was still afraid. 

~•~

The Katsuki household was quiet and anxious the next day. It was anxious because Yuuri had gone back to the hospital to see how going back to work would affect his health. It was quiet because Yuuri’s parents communicated entirely in sign language. 

Hiroko had given up on her book and wandered into the kitchen to see what she should make for dinner, when the door the opened. Mari had always sworn that her mother had a sixth sense, for she could always know exactly where someone was, even if she wasn't looking at them. The truth was that Hiroko could feel the floorboards vibrate when people walked, or when the door slammed. She could also tell that this door slam was a bit too hard to be normal, and she spun around, her brow furrowed. Yuuri’s disgruntled face met her. “ _Hi, Mom,_ ” he signed, eyes cast downward.

“ _Did it not go well?_ ” 

Yuuri shook his head slowly. “ _If I go back to work now, I’ll be exercising the muscles in my stomach too much, which could lead to permanent damage. I’ll have to have the back brace on for another three months or so.”_

_Hiroko sighed. “ _Maybe you shouldn’t do it, then._ ” _

“ _I know._ ” Yuuri had to put his hand down on the wall to keep himself up. Shifting his weight to his shoulder, he signed, “ _I’m tired. I’m going to bed for a little bit._ ” 

“ _Alright. Try reading that book I showed you._ ” Yuuri gave her a smile and a nod, and then he was gone. Hiroko stared after him, knowing that he was going to be asleep for much of the day. _Poor boy._

Yuuri rolled onto his bed again, this time fighting a wave of frustration that had its hands about his throat. His mother was amazing, and he loved her with all of his heart, but he couldn't bear to see her pity him. It made him feel worse than he already did. 

_Can I still get something out of life with this stupid injury?_

_Would the police give me another chance if I recover?_

It had been a stroke of impossible, amazing luck to get into the police force the first time. Yuuri didn't know if he could do it again. 

_Is this job my last chance?_

~•~ 

“Do you think I scared him?” 

Yuri looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Who?” 

“Other Yuuri. I guess I kinda just appeared at his house.” 

“Yeah, you probably scared the shit out of him.” Victor choked on his Cheerios. Yuri snorted at the look on his face. “What?” 

Victor coughed. “You’re so insensitive.” 

“You’re the one who appeared at his house in the middle of the night and asked him to make a major life decision on the spot.” Victor groaned and tried to fold his head into his arms. This resulted in him accidentally dipping his elbow into his cereal. Yuri snorted again as Victor stared at the sleeve of his shirt in disgust. 

“Now I have to change.” 

Victor scraped his chair back, sending an obnoxiously loud sound through the house. Yuri followed him to his bedroom and leaned against the corner of the doorway as Victor threw his wardrobe’s doors open. He began to dig through the unkempt tangle of button up shirts that resided there. “You said Other Yuuri was kinda flighty, right?” 

Victor paused in his rummaging. “Mm-hmm,” he answered slowly. 

“Then why in the hell did you ask him like _that_?” 

Victor stuffed his entire torso into the wardrobe to avoid the question. 

“You do want him on the team, right?” 

Finding a shirt he liked, Victor quickly stripped his button down from his chest. “How about this?” Yuri added. “You leave him alone for the time being, and let him make his decision. Then you invite him over for dinner or something.” 

Victor shook his head, grinning sourly as he finished fixing the last button of his shirt.“I’d rather not explain why I, a single 27 year old, am housing a teenager.” 

“He already thinks you’re fucking nuts, how much worse can it get?” 

Victor wadded up his wet button down and chucked it at Yuri’s head. The milk-soaked sleeve slapped him directly across the face. The garment fell into Yuri’s hands and he stared at it, rage making his lips twitch. Victor slid past him, out of the room. “You’ll pay for that, fuck face.” 

“Have a nice day at school.” Victor scooped his things from where they hung beside the door, and removed himself from the house before the infuriated teenager inside it came to throttle him. He scurried to his car, and pulled away as quickly as he could. 

_Did I overwhelm him?_ Victor summoned the image of Yuuri’s face into his mind, his large brown eyes wide with worry, his full pink lips twitching as he tried to form a response. Victor sighed. The answer was undeniably yes. _Jesus._ It should have been obvious at the time that he’d been intruding; from Yuuri’s unkempt hair, his loose fitting clothes that hung across his chubby frame, and his family’s eyes on him from the living room, the very way the name “Victor” had slipped from his mouth, pronounced not-quite correctly for the first time. He’d intruded on family night. To ask Yuuri to go back to work. The image he still held in his mind focused painfully on the ugly brown back brace strapped across Yuuri’s torso, and then back up to the delicate, conflicted expression that splayed itself across his face. He was still unsteady on his feet- 

_“Jeez, I’m kind of just beginning to be able to totter around here,”_ Memory Yuuri echoed inside of his head. 

_It was probably his first time walking in a while. Christ, my timing couldn't have been worse._

Victor let out a frustrated groan and accelerated through a red light. 

The police station was a whirl of activity when Victor entered the building. He walked quickly through the lobby, eyes searching. Officers were in places they weren't usually, and the spots next to the water fountains and soda machine where workers on break usually hung were eerily vacant. This struck him as odd; the mornings generally didn't house much crime. Even the atmosphere of station was strange; the generally still, hot air was suffocating, even with the fans on. Victor strode into the task force area. The members of the task force swarmed about the room, rummaging through papers and throwing on coats. Mila’s deep auburn hair caught Victor’s eye as she rummaged through her desk, and he started toward her, before something else caught his eye. In the corner of the room, Yuuri stood with his arms crossed, and his eyes darting about anxiously. He’d combed his hair back and put on a button down shirt. _He cleans up nicely,_ Victor found himself thinking as he approached him. 

Yuuri turned as Victor came up beside him, and his expression twisted in a way Victor couldn't quite read. “Hey, Victor,” he said. 

“Yuuri, hi.” Victor glanced over to Mila, who hadn't noticed him yet, “Listen, I don't think this is a good time to talk-” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “O-oh, it’s not- I just wanted to tell you what I decided about your offer.” _Oh._

Victor’s heart sank. Yuuri’s expression was downcast and apologetic; there was no way he was joining the task force with an expression like that. Victor knew his face had fallen because Yuuri averted his eyes completely from him, and locked his hands about each other. “I-” 

“Nikiforov!” 

A man (Jack, Victor thought, though he wasn't sure that was the right name) jogged up to them. “We’re leaving right now. Grab your things.” His eyes flickered over to Yuuri. “Is he coming?” 

“Wh- I just arrived here, and I’m not quite sure what’s going on. Can you fill me in?” Jack scoffed quietly, and Victor felt a small wave of dislike move through him. Yuuri’s eyes were wide with curiosity, and Jack sent another sideways glance to him before speaking. 

“We got a 911 call about five minutes ago.” 

~•~ 

_Oh no._

Yuuri’s senses suddenly seemed heightened. His head reeled, and nausea build unbearably in his stomach. 

“The call was from Salinas, and we got radioed about it immediately after it went into the local police station.” _Oh God, no._ “Normally, they wouldn't radio us, but …” 

Victor’s voice was sharp, almost angry. “Was it a couple?” 

“Yeah. Both shot through the head.” _No._ Yuuri felt the blood rush from his cheeks. _It’s him. There’s no way it isn't._ Victor and the man had begun to walk across the room, and Yuuri saw no other option but to tail them like a lost puppy. The two men spoke with each other, but a harsh ringing seemed to fill Yuuri’s ears. _Like the night I was shot._

_I could have prevented this._ Yuuri wanted to cry. _I could have told them more, something- _anything_ \- I could have- _

_No._

The dark haired man up ahead was stealing glances at Yuuri. A wave of numbing calm flushed through him. 

_There’s nothing I could have done. But there’s something I can do._

“Hey, is he coming along?” Yuuri looked up to see that the dark haired man was looking at him again. 

He flinched as he was addressed. Victor opened his mouth, but Yuuri nodded. “Yeah. I’m coming.” 

Victor turned to him. “Yuuri, you’ll have to be part of the task force to accompany us and-” 

“Then I accept your offer.” Yuuri kept his face firm. So much was happening at once. _I came here to turn down this offer, didn't I?_ “I’ll become part of the task force. Just- let me come with you and see the crime scene.” 

“But-” 

“Please, Victor.” The dark haired officer and Victor exchanged a glance. There was a moment of tense silence, and Yuuri briefly wondered if either of the two were qualified to make a decision like this. 

“He’ll stick with me the entire time.” Victor told the other officer after a moment. Yuuri let out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding. “This isn't confirmation about your position, I’m not even sure I’m allowed to do this-” 

The dark haired officer raised an eyebrow. “Clement’s will-” 

Victor shook his head. “I’ll take the blame. You were never part of the conversation.” This seemed to please the other man, and he clapped Victor on the back. Yuuri saw a grimace of distaste curl about the corner of Victor’s mouth for just a moment, before it was gone, and he was grinning at Yuuri, his eyes wide. “Are you ready to go?” 

Yuuri found himself grinning right back. An anxious giggle crawled from his throat. “Sure.” 

“Good. We’re late.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry for the late update. Finals are kicking my ass. As always, feel free to tell me if something seems off, feedback is always welcome! Thanks for all the support, see y'all next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Victor, please. Turn the body over.” Yuuri could hear the pathetic desperation in his voice. He didn't want to be in this room anymore. He didn't want anymore dead people staring at him. “Please.” _Get me out of here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AND IM SO SORRY  
> i had finals for like a month and i couldnt write at all. So Sorry. SCHOOLS OUT THO so now ill be able to write way more!!! See you guys soon with a new chapter.

Yuuri sat with his hands in his lap. His back was straight, so painfully so that he barely touched the back of Victor’s passenger seat. His eyes stared forward, and Victor watched his teeth work anxiously at his lip, chewing ferociously. 

“Try to relax.”

Yuuri felt a little bit angry at that. There was absolutely no possibility of him relaxing in this position. _God, I regret coming along._ The sudden urge to help that had seized him was nothing but a dream now, replaced by wave after wave of sickening anxiety. He resisted the urge to snap at Victor by letting his back relax, and saying nothing. 

“That was a stupid thing to say.” Yuuri blinked. Victor was grimacing behind the wheel, his eyes locked forward. “I’m sorry. I know this must be hard for you.” 

“I- it’s alright.” _Why is he being so nice to me?_ “Thank you.”

Victor glanced at him for a moment, and Yuuri felt warm and uncomfortable with his gaze. “For what?” he asked quietly. His voice was velvety and low. 

_Oh, man._

“F-for driving me. And letting me come along.” He felt the need to say something else. “You’ve been really kind to me throughout, well, since I got shot. I appreciate it.” _Fuck, that was a lot. That was too much._

Victor blinked, his eyes widening in an innocent look of surprise for a moment. Then he smiled slightly. “Well, you’re a good person. I think you deserve to have someone being kind to you right now.” His eyes were on Yuuri again, and he could feel his cheeks burning with the intensity of his gaze. 

Yuuri dropped his eyes first. “You think I’m a good person?” 

“I think you’re a very good person. You’re risking reliving an extremely traumatic experience, and permanently damaging your body in an attempt to help other people.” Out of the corner of his eye, Victor could see Yuuri’s expression softening significantly.

“I just …” He pursed his lips. “I remember how it felt to be shot. It was … it was the worse pain in the world, Victor. And I was so … _scared_ , I … I could barely breathe.” Yuuri’s voice broke. His hands had begun to tremble, and he locked his short, chubby fingers together to stabilize them a bit. “I don't want anyone to have to feel like that. Ever.” 

He flinched as Victor’s hand came to rest on his forearm. “You’re helping make sure no one does. Like I said, you’re a good person.” 

“Thank you.” Yuuri could still feel anxiety pulsing angrily in his chest, but the conversation had served as a good distraction. He opened his mouth to talk again, but _I actually need to know what to do when we arrive at the crime scene._ The nail on his thumb scraped anxiously at his other cuticles. 

There was silence for a few minutes. 

“Do you have any tips for … looking at dead bodies?” 

“Without wanting to cry?” 

Yuuri snorted. “Yes, that.” 

Victor leaned his head back, appearing to think for a few moments.“Breathe through your mouth,” he finally said. 

This earned a small grin. “Why?”

“It’s just a trick I picked up over the years. If you can't smell the blood- and you’ll be able to smell it- you can disconnect from the situation a little bit more. Pretend it’s a movie, almost.” 

Yuuri found this vaguely horrifying, but was able to reply evenly, “Don’t you want to be completely present in a situation like that?” 

“Yes, you would, but not if it risks you being able to respond at all. We don't need you to look for evidence or anything like that. Just … and this is _if_ you’re allowed into the house, you’re going to just _look._ See if you can spot anything that we can’t. Your perspective is unique to all of the investigators there.” 

Yuuri nodded, and took a deep breath. Swallowed. The constant thrum of anxiety in his chest had slowed, just a bit. Perhaps he’d just become numb to it. Either way, the task at hand didn't scare him nearly as much as it had a second ago. _I can do this._

“Alright. When will we be there?”

“An hour.” 

_Oh._

~•~

When the car finally began to slow as it came off the highway, Yuuri started trembling again. He folded his fingers to together, desperate to regain the composure he’s been building throughout the drive. It was gone, and panic thrummed frantically through his body. The car slowed at an intersection, and Yuuri took in Salinas, a city he’d never been in. All that he could see from the windows were shop fronts, all down each street. _It’s ugly,_ he thought sullenly, and looked down again. “Are we nearly there?” he murmured. 

“Yes, it’ll five-or-so minutes.” This sent another tremor through Yuuri’s hands. He searched for the feeling that had overcome him at the police station; the numb calm from then would be a blessing. The feeling was gone, an intangible memory. 

_I don't want to do this._

A light from outside the car caught Yuuri’s eye and he glanced up to look at the source. Another cop car had pulled up beside them, its siren silent, but its lights on and whirling. Yuuri wondered briefly if the lights on this car were on, before Victor mumbled something beside him, and flicked a switch on the dash. A muffled wail rose above them. 

A minute later, Yuuri saw two more cop cars, all with their lights on. These cars didn't leave their line of vision. Moments after that, yet another car appeared, following the other three. _We’re headed to the epicenter of all cop cars,_ Yuuri thought. As they went along, there was no doubt about it; they passed cop after cop until the neighborhood was swarming with them. “Here we are,” Victor murmured, pulling into one of the few barren parking spots that remained by the side of the road. Yuuri glanced around the neighborhood quickly, and his eyes immediately fell on the source of all the madness. 

It was a small house, as many of the houses in the neighborhood were. One story, painted a deep red that had faded from years in the sun. To Yuuri, the only anomaly he could see were the copious amounts of cops in the yard. 

“Stay in the car,” Victor told him quietly, and he slipped from the car. Yuuri’s eyes followed him to the sidewalk, and in the rear view mirror, watched him trot up to a tall officer on the sidewalk. Victor’s gate visibly slowed, and his posture shifted slightly before he opened his mouth to speak. The man turned. Yuuri let out a thin whimper, and was thankful that he was alone in the car. 

The man was tall, and broad shouldered. Thin eyebrows fringed his heavy brow bone, and his short cropped black-grey curls framed his face into a hard square. Deep set brown eyes narrowed into a glare as Victor began to speak. It was familiar face; Yuuri knew it first-hand how awful that glare could be. _It’s Paul Clements._ The steely glare flickered over to Yuuri, who flinched away from the mirror. His eyes remained on his shoes until Victor opened the door of the car. “You’re alright,” he said, and Yuuri wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort him or explain the situation. “We have to clear you with the Salinas police. Let’s go.” Victor placed a hand on his shoulder, helping him from the car. 

“So I can-”

“Yes, you’re in.” Yuuri felt a shiver run through him, and Victor turned, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“I …” Yuuri gulped. On top of the adrenaline coursing through him, the ghost of the wound in his stomach had begun to pulse angrily. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.” 

Victor nodded, and then he was pulling him from the car. Yuuri wanted to stop, but then they were moving. 

He let Victor drag him toward the house, and _It really is the epicenter_ he thought, almost dreamily. The whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree, and the flashing cars around it hurt Yuuri’s eyes. The beginnings of a headache tapped threatening at the back of Yuuri’s eyes as he approached the police rope. 

An officer approached them. Victor quickly spat out their names and authorizations. The officer scribbled it down and waved them in. Yuuri could feel his palms beginning to sweat again. 

_The entire house is a crime scene. If I panic, I can’t isolate myself anywhere without possibly messing with evidence._

They walked through the yard, and approached the front door. Yuuri took a deep breath in, and regretted it as the metallic scent of blood hit him hard. It wasn't a smell that was foreign to him, no, this was how the air smelled that night he’d been- 

_Through your mouth._ He breathed through his mouth. There was a slight tang to the taste of the air that was almost familiar, but it was subtle enough to ignore. “Yuuri?” He blinked. 

“Sorry. I’m coming.” He ascended the stairs to the porch in an almost trancelike fashion. The front hallway was carpeted, a pale cream color. From the room to the right, something the color of dark rust had trickled from the right room and stained the carpet. _Blood. That’s blood._ He swallowed as they entered the house. _Might as well get used to it, I’ll be seeing a lot of that today._ Victor passed over the threshold of the house, and Yuuri followed him. He stepped over the carpet stain, and turned to face the room it had spilled from. 

There were two people on the ground, face down. 

The cop part of Yuuri's brain stirred, slow after being idle for so long. The panic ebbed slightly, and became something that he could press to the side for the time being. His eyes wove methodically about the crime scene, even though his feet were rooted to the spot, focusing on the body closest to him. _Female, black, mid-thirties to forties._ She had shoulder length, straightened hair, which was dark brown. Her skin was a deep mahogany, though it was slightly grey from blood loss. An entry bullet wound on the back of her head was obscured by her hair, but the exit wound bloomed across her dark forehead. “Did we find the bullet lodged in the wall?” Yuuri asked numbly. 

Victor shook his head, and pointed to a small crater directly across the room from them. “That’s where the bullet hit, but we haven't actually found it. It seems the killer actually removed it.”

A chill ran down his spine. “He knows what he’s doing.” Victor nodded grimly. 

_Focus._ The exit hole was large, but not extremely; this hallway was cramped, and she must have have felt the gun on her skull the moment before killing had happened. She lay with her feet to the doorway, her arms to her sides. _She didn't even have time to turn around._

Yuuri wanted to throw up. Instead, he made his feet move and bring him to the other victim. 

_Male, white, mid twenties to late thirties._ He had short, brunette hair, and he lay face down. He was tall, maybe 6’3. The entry wound on the back of his head was in nearly the exact center. _He’s a fantastic shot._ Yuuri scanned the wall, and he found another dug-out crater. Far off, Yuuri heard another officer enter the room. He squinted at the second body. The man’s legs and arms stuck at strange angles, angles that didn't make sense to him. “Yuuri?” Victor called softly. “What do you see?” 

“Something’s … something’s wrong.” Yuuri heard whoever had just entered snort quietly. He ignored it. The man’s right arm lay under his body, his left twisted and straight, behind him. His legs were almost parallel to each other. Yuuri closed his eyes. 

_The killer enters the hallway; since the woman didn't hear him before she died, the man probably wouldn't either. The killer shoots the woman, she falls to the ground. This catches the man’s attention, and he turns. He sees the killer, whose gun is trained on him at this point._ Yuuri wondered if the two of them had shared the same eerie stare that he’d had before being shot. _The man turns to run. The killer shoots, and he falls to the ground._

The arms were wrong. The legs were wrong. _This isn't how someone who was running would fall._ “He moved him,” Yuuri said quietly. “Lovebird moved this body.” 

Three voices objected loudly to that, and Yuuri flinched, his nerves rattled. He took a step forward, and stared down at the man’s blood stained tee-shirt. 

The shoulder and sleeve on the right side were rumpled and bent. Yuuri crouched, ignoring the way his back brace dug into his sides. _What kind of grab would rumple fabric like that?_ He reached slowly toward the shoulder, then recoiled. His hand was trembling. The eyes of the room burned Yuuri’s back, and he rose to his feet quickly, and stumbled backward toward Victor. “Someone flip him over.” 

The other officer stepped forward. “Excuse me?” He gestured toward Yuuri, eyes trained on Victor. “Who is this guy?”

“He’s our only witness, and a member of the task force.” Victor’s gaze darted from the body to Yuuri, back and forth. “Are you sure we should flip him?” 

“Someone grabbed his shirt and pulled him over. None of the other victims were touched.” Someone else entered the room, and out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw Paul Clement’s steely gaze on him. Sweat began to build under his arms and on his palms. _This is too much._ The argumentative officer he didn't know the name of was snapping something at him. Noise swirled into a thundering storm around Yuuri. His gaze fell to the ground, and he almost screamed; the dead woman’s sad brown eyes were staring directly at him. 

“Victor, please. Turn the body over.” Yuuri could hear the pathetic desperation in his voice. He didn't want to be in this room anymore. He didn't want anymore dead people staring at him. “Please.” _Get me out of here._

Victor crouched, and in one fluid moment, wrenched the body onto its side. The body twisted horribly, falling with a wet thud onto its back. The front of the man’s shirt was soaked in blood, but that wasn't what made Victor curse under his breath and turn away. 

Across the man’s chest, someone had carved a ragged cross. 

The room was absolutely silent, before exploding into sound. Clements’ eyes bulged from his head. Yuuri found himself gasping for air, and blood-clogged air filled his nose. The rest of the room ignored him as he sped to the door. 

A minute later, Victor stepped into the hallway to find Yuuri leaning against the wall . His eyes were glued to the ground, his hands clasped over his ears. “Hey,” he said quietly, and Yuuri glanced up. To Victor’s horror, there was a certain glimmer to Yuuri’s eyes that said he’d been holding back tears. He took a step forward, and placed his hand gently on the other man’s shoulder. Yuuri flinched a little, before almost _leaning_ into the hand, his jaw clenched. “Are you alright?”

Yuuri gave what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. “I’ll be fine,” he stated quietly. 

Victor didn't believe him, but the urge to do something was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. _I don't know how to help you, Yuuri._ “Alright,” he mustered. Yuuri smiled weakly, and Victor almost wanted to hug him, to tell him it was going to be alright. Instead, he watched him take a shuddering breath in, and re-enter the room where the two bodies lay face down, his fists clenched. 

_Damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, thank you so much for sticking around this long! If something in the story seems off, please tell me down below. Kudos and comments are very very very much appreciated. Thank you!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Victor has a male roommate._ Yuuri’s expression must have faltered because Victor shuttered quickly; “H-He’s fifteen. And my neighbor.” Yuuri's eyebrow quirked upward playfully. “I took him in. He had nowhere to stay, and I have a big house.” 
> 
> “Oh. What’s his name?” 
> 
> “Yuri.”
> 
> “Yes?”
> 
> “No, that’s his name. It’s quite popular in Russia.” Yuuri blinked, and Victor laughed quietly. “He calls you Other Yuuri. When you come up in a conversation.”
> 
> “Does that happen often?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless vacation and tragic personal circumstances, allowing me to vent my emotional unraveling into my work

For the second time that day, Yuuri was in Victor’s car. Though he didn't look as deeply uncomfortable as he had last time, Victor wasn't sure if he prefered this emotion on Yuuri. The other man’s eyes lulled slightly shut, and his cheeks were pallid. He looked as if some one had vacuumed all the energy and emotion out of him; his limbs hung at loose, awkward angles, making him look like a rag doll that a child had discarded into a corner. 

Both of their stomach’s gurgled simultaneously. Yuuri snorted quietly. 

“Are you alright?” Victor winced immediately after; it didn't seem like the right thing to say. Turning over the words in his mind, though, what else was there to be said? How did you talk to someone who’d just seen what the two of them had seen? How did you talk to Yuuri Katsuki, who’d just proven himself an incredible asset, and who’d probably just cemented himself onto the task force?

“They probably aren't going to hire me after that, arel they?” 

They swerved slightly on the road as Victor recoiled from the statement visibly. A car behind them honked; Victor paid it no attention. “Are you kidding?” His voice warbled slightly. 

“What?” Yuuri’s eyes were wide with concern. _Oh, fuck, I didn't mean to scare him._

“You’re hired. Almost 100% sure. Of that.” God, he couldn't talk suddenly. Emotional build up from the day was probably messing with him. That, and something about Yuuri’s tired, scared face made his heart hurt. 

This seemed to surprise Yuuri. “Seriously?”

“Yuuri, are you kidding? They’re going to hire you _so hard._ ” 

“Wha- never mind, what about Clements? He-”

Victor grinned giddily. “The poor bastard won’t have a choice, not after today. You’ve got something special, Katsuki, and Clements might be a hateful little shit, but he hates Lovebird more than he hates people like you.” Yuuri laughed uncomfortably. Victor got the feeling that he’d come off a bit too strong. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, don't worry about it.” They both smiled awkwardly for a moment, before Victor's giddy expression appeared again.

“I’m _happy_ for you, Yuuri.” 

Salinas was quickly disappearing into the rear view mirror, and with it went the last of Yuuri’s anxiety, leaving him shaky and exhausted. “I know. I … I think I’m happy too.” He didn't feel happy. He felt tired and hungry. Another loud grumble bounced through the car, and Yuuri’s hand went to his stomach. 

“Victor?” 

“Mmm?”

“What’s your favorite food?”

Victor seemed to think about this for several moments before he answered. “Probably … _pashka_. It’s a Russian dish.”

“What’s it like?”

Victor thought for a moment. “It’s a cake … it’s a little bit like cheese cake. It was made to celebrate Easter, but my family isn't particularly religious, so we made it whenever we wanted. My mom used to make it. And my … er, _roommate_ makes it as well, he’s quite good at it.”

 _Victor has a male roommate._ Yuuri’s expression must have faltered because Victor shuttered quickly; “H-He’s fifteen. And my neighbor.” Yuuri's eyebrow quirked upward playfully. “I took him in. He had nowhere to stay, and I have a big house.” 

“Oh. What’s his name?” 

“Yuri.”

“Yes?”

“No, that’s his name. It’s quite popular in Russia.” Yuuri blinked, and Victor laughed quietly. “He calls you Other Yuuri. When you come up in a conversation.”

“Does that happen often?” 

“Well, you know. When you end up in the newspaper, you tend to talk about it for a while.” Victor could feel his cheeks heating. _I really can't talk to him, can I._ His stomach gurgled, angrily reminding him that it was painfully empty. “Yuuri, what’s _your_ favorite food?” 

Yuuri’s answer was immediate. “My mom makes the most amazing … well, I'm not entirely sure what to call it in English. It’s like … pork, and egg on rice?”

“What word do you use for it?”

“ _Katsudon._ ” The word’s connotation made Yuuri’s stomach feel warm. It growled yet again, and he winced. 

“What time is it, Victor?” 

“Just about 5:00.” They’d been on the road for perhaps forty-five minutes. “I’m going to be home late.”

“Do you live in Oakland?”

He shook his head. “No, I live about an hour north of there, a bit between Martinez and Stockton. Moved out there a bit after getting a job in Oakland.” 

Yuuri gave a knowing half-smile. “Rent?”

Victor laughed and nodded. “Rent.”

Yuuri frowned suddenly, his chin in his hands. “Well, Martinez is … you should only add about an hour or so on, right? You’ll be home by 7:30.” 

“Mmm, Yuri-” and this time Yuuri could tell, he pronounced the two names much differently, “-will have eaten all of the food by then.” 

“You could have dinner with me.” 

It seemed quite awkward once he’d blurted it out, and Yuuri felt his cheeks heat slightly. He hoped it wasn't obvious in the fading daylight. “I mean, if you’re- if you’re, uh, interested in that- I mean, you, um. If you want to.” _Crap. That was terrible. I’m terrible._

“That sounds- well, I-” Victor cleared his throat. “That sounds really nice, actually. I wouldn't be intruding-?”

Yuuri shook his head furiously, relieved he hadn't seemed too forward. “No, Mother always makes too much. And they _love_ having guests. It’ll be nice, do you think-?”

“Yes, that … sounds _lovely._ ” 

Yuuri breathed out slowly. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

There was a long silence. 

“Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“Have you started studying Swedish yet?” 

“I’m learning French right now, Victor.” He couldn't see Yuuri’s face, it was facing the window, but he could hear the smile that curled its lips. “I didn't finish off the language in the three weeks since we spoke.” 

“But you’re going to study Swedish afterward, right? Or did you …” he glanced Yuuri’s way, and felt a pang of satisfaction when he saw that Yuuri was eyeing him, “change your mind?” 

“Mmm, I’m not so sure about Swedish anymore.” Victor could feel his own heart beat very intensely, though he wasn't sure why.

“Really? What are you thinking about leaning instead?”

Yuuri leaned toward Victor slightly. His face was stony, before a tiny, smug smile curled the side of his mouth. 

“Norwegian.” 

They both burst into laughter, and Victor put a hand over his forehead in mock-anguish. “I-I can't come over suddenly! Something’s come up!” 

“I’m sorry, I just-” Yuuri felt a shudder move through him, and wondered what it was, “I don't think I have the capacity for five different alphabets.” 

“I bet you could. You’re very smart, Yuuri.” This made him flush and look away, but Victor meant it all the same. 

~•~

When they were about two blocks from Yuuri’s house, he began to ramble. 

“Alright, so my mom is deaf.” Victor’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he nodded. “She signs in a combination of ASL and JSL.” 

“JSL?”

“Japanese sign language. She went deaf after immigrating here, but we live in a mainly Japanese area, so she was exposed to both when she started learning. She can lip read English, though, so you should be okay, as long as you don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

“Okay.”

“Dad and Mari- that’s my older sister, actually? She probably won't be home. Anyway, Dad understands English. Victor?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Were your parents immigrants, too?” He winced in hindsight; the question was too intrusive. “You don't have to answer that, actually.”

“It’s alright; actually, I’m the first member of my family to live in America. I was born in Russia.” 

Yuuri blinked. “That’s … incredible.”

Victor nodded. “I was sent here by my parents when I was nine.” Yuuri almost gasped, but Victor only looked vaguely nostalgic at the thought. “An old family friend took me in and raised me.” 

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Then …” Yuuri’s eyes swiveled up as he did the math. “You made it here right before the-”

“The travel ban, yes.” The car stopped, and Yuuri glanced up. “We’re here.” 

Yuuri slipped from the car, and felt his legs shudder as he stood. He’s been on them all day, and just how weak his muscles had become was evident in every sore muscle. _Minako never has to find out,_ he thought jokingly, knowing full well that the strain he put his body through would have long-term damaging consequences. 

He opened the door, and Hiroko turned from her spot by the sink to see him. “ _Yuuri, you’re-_ her hands stilled as she spied Victor behind him. 

“ _Mom, I brought a dinner guest._ ” 

Hiroko’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands happily. Yuuri entered the house, and Victor followed suit, before shaking hands with Yuuri’s mother. She whipped his hands up and down during the handshake, enthusiastically grinning. “Hello, I’m Victor,” he said evenly. 

“ _Hi, Victor, it’s a pleasure to meet you,_ ” she signed. 

“She says it’s nice to meet you,” Yuuri said, stepping into the kitchen from the first hall. His father was chopping green onions. A familiar smell was beginning to accumulate in the air. “Dad, is that-” Toshiya turned, and winked knowingly. 

Yuuri almost danced with joy, but felt Victor’s gaze on his back and refrained. 

Back in the living room, Victor took in the house. It was an open home; the front door lead directly into this room, and a small doorway in the left wall lead to what Victor assumed was the kitchen. Another hall lead further back, and down it, Victor could see several more rooms. _One of them is Yuuri’s._ This thought puzzled Victor in its spontaneous nature; why should he _care_ about that? 

“Victor?” He blinked, and spun around. Yuuri stood there, his hair slightly rumpled. _He looks so much like his mother,_ Victor thought, and he didn't understand where this came from, either. _Yuuri is quite the producer of spontaneous thoughts._

“Are you alright? You seem a little out of it.” Victor blinked again. 

“I’m fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.” 

They sat down for dinner a few minutes later. When Toshiya walked into the room, Yuuri nearly squirmed in delight; the hot pork’s smell made his mouth water. Victor looked equally interested from where he sat across the table. A light flush had settled over his pale cheeks, and he stared down in ravenous delight when his dish was set down in front of him. “Is this …” Yuuri nodded, smiling widely. “Can I …?” 

“Dig in.” 

Victor did, and moments later his eyes were closed, mouth struggling to smile around a mouthful of food. The Katsuki’s watched him in mild amusement. “Is it good?” Yuuri asked quietly. 

“Ooss oo mm,” Victor replied. 

The family giggled quietly, and Yuuri saw Victor’s cheeks become a shade pinker. _He’s adorable,_ Yuuri found himself thinking, and bent his head over his own food. _What an unfortunate attraction._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow don't u love it when u mess up one (1) piece of HTML and ur entire chapter turns into crytyping?
> 
> THE TRAVEL BAN: in the 1950's there was a strict travel ban, prohibiting soviet citizens (anyone Russian) from entering the country. This ban became more lenient later. 
> 
> As always, please tell me if something in the fic seems off/straight up bad (i.e. characterizations, descriptions of social climate, etc.) and thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men laughed simultaneously, then glared at each other. The blonde one spoke, “The car’s nearly twenty years old. No one in their right mind would try and rent it out.”
> 
> “So he either bought the car here a while ago, or …” 
> 
> “Or he could live in state.” 
> 
> “The first murder _was_ during spring break,” Yuuri mused. “A good opportunity to take a trip up to Oregon.” 
> 
> “Take the kids up to Oregon, get something for Voodoo Donuts, kill a couple, sounds like a lovely vacation,” Jean said, sounding terrifyingly merry. The rest of the group looked at him. “I’m joking. Obviously,” he added.

_His knees buckled and he fell to the floor of the phone booth. Every nerve ending in his being roared, and Yuuri_ wailed, _helpless against them. The figure above him reached out slowly, and Yuuri tried to shrink away from his hand. But the gunman simply grabbed the phone from where it hung on the wall, and placed it back in the hanger, ending the 911 call. Yuuri watch the figure turn, silhouetted in the deep violet sky, before disappearing into the air._

_Panic suddenly locked around his ribs, and Yuuri stopped screaming, unable to find air. The night air was quiet, but all that Yuuri could hear was the pounding of his blood in his ears, impossibly fast. Despite the panic, his inched his back up the wall slowly, until his head was over his stomach. “This’s … gonna hurt,” he told himself quietly, and then pressed his hand to his stomach. The pain swelled again, and he cried out, the world swirling before his eyes._ It hurts. It hurts. It hurts- _Yuuri growled, driving the thought out._

_Something almost felt as if it was hitting his hand, and Yuuri realized in a wave of nausea that he could feel blood pulsing against his palm as he cupped it over the first wound. He glanced down at the wound, before squinting at his palm; something wrong. This hand was too broad, too … he slowly counted his digits, and felt a new wave of repulsion roll through him. His hand had seven fingers._

This is a dream. _A wave of relief. Yuuri had had vivid dreams throughout him life, and an easy way to realize he was sleeping were hands. His brain couldn't seem to get them right._

This is a dream. _The wound on his gut disappeared. Yuuri rose from where he lay, and opened the phone booth. There was no sign of anyone in the dimly lit parking lot but Phichit’s abandoned car. A strand of hair hung from inside it, and with a jolt, Yuuri realized that it belonged to Tori. He stared at the car, and it disappeared as well._

_A low roar filled the air. Yuuri frowned. He hasn't heard any sound that night, not like this. It seemed to come from the road that ran in front of the old parking lot and the abandoned store next to it. Yuuri walked toward it, and the noise became louder. It was familiar;_ very _familiar, but Yuuri couldn't quite place it._

_He reached the edge of the road._

_As if in slow motion, a truck crossed in front of him._

_It was bright red, and a bottle of brown soda was plastered across the side. White loopy writing splayed across the side._

Coca Cola.

Yuuri shot up in his bed, sweat slicking his forehead and hair. A happy, wild smile stretched across his face as the contents of the dream settled in his mind. He fumbled for his glasses, and looked about. A notebook lay discarded on the ground by the bed; Yuuri snatched it up. Scribbling down what he remembered, he almost laughed with delight. _This could be huge._

~•~

“You know this how?” Victor looked less than ready to jump into investigation this morning. His eyes lulled slightly whenever he blinked, as if he was ready to go back to sleep at any moment. 

“I had a lucid dream last night. It started as the night I got shot, but once I realized I was dreaming, I- well, you know how you can make whatever you want happen when you lucid dream?” Victor nodded. “I made the gunshot wounds on my stomach disappear, and then I walked out of the phonebooth. I didn't see Lovebird’s car, but I _did_ see a Coca Cola truck on the road.”

“That could just be something your brain made up. Dreams are strange. You didn't remember anything like that before, right?” 

“No, but, when I was in the hospital, the doctors told me that I would probably suppress some things from my memory- we’ve got to call, just in case.”

Victor nodded, though he looked skeptical. “Only if you go get me a cup of coffee. I feel like I’m dying.”

“Sure!” Yuuri scurried off. Victor’s gaze followed him as he bounced through the throng of police officers. _I really pushed him yesterday. His legs must be killing him._ It suddenly seemed like a terrifying prospect that Yuuri might be hurt by the work they did. Of course, it had been before, but for some reason, a shot of adrenaline seemed to come with the idea now. _If he gets hurt …_ Victor picked up the phone and began to dial. _If he gets hurt, it will be my fault._

The company number re-directed him to the shipping sector. They redirected him to the trucking section. At some point, Yuuri came back, gingerly setting the coffee on Victor’s desk, and slipped into a chair beside him. They sat, not speaking to each other, for nearly half an hour. The only noise was the bustle of the task force around them, and Victor’s speech into the phone. 

“Katsuki.” Yuuri flinched. The dark haired officer from the day before was towering over him. “The hell are you doing over here?”

“I-umm, sir!” The guy rolled his eyes. 

“Jean-Jacques Leroy. Friends call me JJ. You should probably be moving your stuff.” He nodded toward the door that lead to the regular police lockers. “Your desk is over there.” He nodded toward this as well, a smallish desk in corner. Yuuri’s stomach sank as he eyed the distance between him and Victor. _I barely know one person in this room, and I’m being separated from him already?_ “What are you doing over here, anyway?” Jean asked him. Yuuri got the distinct feeling that the other man was annoyed with him, though he didn't know why. 

“Well, I … um.” _I had a dream about Lovebird and now Victor’s calling Coca Cola to see if it actually happened._ “I had a dream about Lovebird and now Victor’s calling Coca Cola to see if it actually happened.”

Jean blinked slowly, his eyes tired and angry. 

_I planned that sentence out in my head because I thought it would be sarcastic and witty if I kept it to myself, not so that I could blurt it out like an idiot._

“That’s …” Jean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kid, that’s not how you do police work. How did you make it out of the police academy? Did Lovebird shoot the sense out of you?” Anger bubbled in Yuuri’s chest, and a pulse erupted in his still-healing stomach.

“Whether that’s true or not,” Victor spoke in a lower voice than Yuuri had heard before, which made him think that perhaps he was angry as well, “he’s right.”

“What?” Yuuri and Jean snapped.

Victor cleared his throat, and lent Yuuri a small smile before proceeding. “On the day Yuuri was shot, around the time he was shot, a Coca Cola truck did indeed pass by the road next to an abandoned Brock’s, the one that Yuuri was outside of.” _So that’s what store it was. No one ever told me._ “So close, in fact, that the driver actually heard two of gunshots. In his report, submitted later, he had apparently believed that he’d run over a sharp rock, and called for the tire to be inspected once he arrived.”

“How’d you know all that?”

“I just got off of the phone with the driver. Not only that, but he thinks he knows the type of car Lovebird was driving.”

“ _What_?” Both Yuuri and Jean exclaimed again, and the rest of the task force turned to look at them. 

“Apparently, a car pulled in front of him that was driving quite erratically, enough that he still remembers it. California license plate. He couldn't quite identify the type of car-” 

“What’d he say it looked like?” two voices called from the small collection of officers in the room. Yuuri blinked. The two men who had spoken sat next to each other. One of them was bronzey-tan and had deep auburn hair, the other was pale, and blonde. The red-haired one sent the other a short, annoyed glare. 

Victor let a small smile quirk the side of his lips before continuing. “Tallish. Looked like it could hold maybe four passengers. Wide. Small circle headlights.” 

“How the hell’d he know what the headlights looked like and everything?” someone called. 

Victor squinted at the notes he’d scribbled down in front of himself. “He said it was popular when he was a teenager, and he’d always wanted one.”

“How old is he now?”

“Thirty-five.” This fact seemed to mean something to the two men, and the red headed one began scribbling something down, as the blonde one spoke quietly and rapid fire to him. There was a moment of silence as they worked, before the red headed one spat out, “He was born in 1934, making his teens from ‘47 to ‘53. That means the car, if it was popular at that time-”

“- was probably a 1950 Crowley Station wagon,” they finished at the same time. 

Yuuri’s mouth hung slightly open. Victor grinned at his expression, before addressing the task force again. “Could he gave gotten it from a car rental?”

The two men laughed simultaneously, then glared at each other. The blonde one spoke, “The car’s nearly twenty years old. No one in their right mind would try and rent it out.”

“So he either bought the car here a while ago, or …” 

“Or he could live in state.” 

“The first murder _was_ during spring break,” Yuuri mused. “A good opportunity to take a trip up to Oregon.” 

“Take the kids up to Oregon, get something for Voodoo Donuts, kill a couple, sounds like a lovely vacation,” Jean said, sounding terrifyingly merry. The rest of the group looked at him. “I’m joking. Obviously,” he added. 

Victor cleared his throat. “Anyway, Mila, Chris.” A red-haired woman and a blonde, green eyed man raised their hands to confirm they were there. Mika was pretty in a subtle, cute way, while Chris’ long eyelashes, full lips, and chiseled face made him beautiful in a very extravagant way. _Minako and Mari would be all over him,_ Yuuri thought. 

“From what we’ve collected from the in the investigation, does the erratic behavior displayed by the car seem like our guy?” Mila immediately spun about, and picked up something from her desk. Chris considered for a moment before saying, “It isn't unlikely.” 

“From the first case, the victims were found in an alley, minutes after shots were fired. Actually, the bodies were still warm when they were found. It’s been theorized that Lovebird would have had to sprint at full speed to clear the area.” She flipped to another page in her folder. “The second case. The shatter pattern in the glass of a window in front of the condo was off, as if someone had stepped carelessly into the glass and then kicked new shards over the footprints he’d made. This is careless compared to the extremely precise shots he’d fired. What I’m trying to theorize is that he kills, and then he freaks out.”

“Exactly,” Chris said. 

“Yuuri? Did it feel like that to you?” 

Yuuri thought back, ignoring the familiar feeling of dread that settled over him, and the awful twang the bullet wounds in his gut gave. “He did … look angry when he shot me. If that means anything. The expression on his face was kind of … twisted … he was furious, I could tell.” 

Jean chewed his lip. “I’m not sure if that’s related at all, but it's good information.” 

“And it could point to the car being Lovebird’s; we shut the area down and didn't find anyone on foot, so it’s likely he was in a hurry to leave,” Victor added. 

“I doubt that’ll hold up in court, Nikiforov.” Clements’ deep voice cut through the room, and half of the team flinched violently. No one had noticed him slip in. “We need a solid motive for the car speeding away, or else it’s just a scared person running from gunshots.” 

“Well, he did see me call the police.” An uncomfortable amount of eyes fell onto him as he spoke. Yuuri continued, hoping his voice wouldn't shake. “He shot me when he heard the receiver speak, so he knew the cops were coming.” 

“That works,” Victor said quickly, gaze on Clements, who was staring at Yuuri with an unreadable expression on his face. 

The older man stepped forward and faced the rest of the task force. “Katsuki, Babicheva. Work on main motive today. Nekola, Lee, Leroy, Crispino, and Iglesia, I want to know any other car possibilities, and all the companies who sell or have sold those cars.” 

“In what area?” The man who spoke up was slightly short, with deep tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes. 

“In all of California, Leo,” Clements answered. Leo paled. “Nikiforov and Giacometti, I want you to prepare interview questions for potential suspects.” 

“But Chris specializes in forensics,” Jean interjected. 

“People like talking to him.” Chris batted his eyelashes as Jean. “I can't imagine why. And Katsuki?” Yuuri cringed. “Move your things.” Yuuri nodded sharply. “That will be all.” 

~•~

By the end of the day, Yuuri knew almost everyone’s name. 

Christophe Giacometti was friends with Victor, and a strange man indeed. He was 25, Swiss, and had a confident, almost flirty aura that followed him about. He had a male roommate, this he admitted openly. Yuuri didn't ask him anything about it and Chris didn't follow the statement up with anything. Mila Babicheva was a four-generation Russian, and though she was the only woman on the task force, she was cool and confident with her coworkers. Jean (who everyone insisted Yuuri called JJ, for using his first name befuddled them to no ends) was French-Canadian, and had moved down to California a year before the murders, with his recently-engaged fiancé, Isabelle. He talked so much about her that Yuuri knew more on her than he knew about JJ himself. 

Emil Nekola and Michele Crispino were coworkers, and they both had an obsession with cars that Yuuri didn't quite understand, but they couldn't get along for the world, (though when they rarely did align forces, they worked extremely well together). Yuuri had asked Viktor about them during break; apparently years ago, Emil had made a move on Michele’s sister, Sala. She had declined, for reasons unknown to this day, but Michele had never forgotten and had, apparently, never forgiven. “The guy loves his sister so much, it’s freakish,” was JJ’s comment on the matter. 

Seung Gil Lee was a Korean man who’s lived in the states his whole life. He was brilliant, that was obvious to Yuuri, and anyone who came in contact with him, but he was a man of few words, and this was all that Yuuri could collect upon him; he was 25, he lived alone, and he had a dog. There was a picture of it on his otherwise undecorated desk. However, his coworker for the day, Leo de la Iglesias, balanced Seung Gil’s lack of talk out nicely. He was a chatty Hispanic man who’d moved to California from New York after college; he was the first one in his family to live on the west coast, and he was excited enough about it that he accidentally told Yuuri twice. He was 26, and he loved music; he asked Yuuri for his favorite genre (it was romantic classical) and countered with a five minute discussion on his own (soft-rock). A stack on records lived under his desk. 

“Do you think it’s religiously motivated?”

Yuuri gasped a little as he was spoken to. He’d been deep in thought beforehand, and the voice had startled him. He looked up to see Mila quirking her eyebrow at him. “Sorry, come again?”

“Do you always flinch when people talk to you?” Somehow Yuuri doubted that this was what she’d asked originally, but he didn't comment. 

“No, I’m just … I’m-”

“High-strung at the moment.”

“Well-” _I experience unnaturally high levels of fear and anxiety for someone my age, and no one can explain why. The thing where I got shot hasn't helped much._ “... Yeah,” he finished, slowly. 

“It’s fine. Your first day in a new job’ll do that. So will Clements.” Yuuri smiled a little and nodded. “Anywho. The killings. Do you think they’re religiously motivated?” 

Yuuri blinked and thought back. The crosses were on thing, (though, as Christophe liked to remind them, they could be x’s,) but besides that he couldn't think of anything pointing to that. “I’m not totally sure, to be honest. Why do you think he goes after couples?”

“Public indecency, maybe?” Mila tapped her pen against her lips. “You and Tori were kind of …” she made a face and twirled her pen in a spiral, eyes on Yuuri.” 

“We were kissing, yes. And before that …”

“She was feeling you up at the movie. So let’s say … let’s say the guy’s hyper-religious. Jesus-freak. Whatever. He can see that you two aren't married if he can see Tori’s hand. He gets it in his mind to … fix whatever’s going on.”

Though Yuuri found the theory personally uncomfortable, it was plausible. “What about the others? What did they do?”

“Well, the first couple, they were found in an alleyway, yes? Have you seen the report on their murder?” Yuuri shook her head. He’d never really looked into the murders, even after his own incident. “The alley they were found in was only a block on a sort of … _love-hotel,_ if you will.” Yuuri blinked, the picture becoming clearer suddenly. 

“So they leave the hotel together … Lovebird sees them … decides to follow them to the alley way.” 

“Exactly. And the couple who died right before you had strange bruising on their bodies that was eventually ruled to be inflicted by each other.”

“And they were killed right in front of the big window in their house, so Lovebird could-”

“See them fighting. The bruising means they were getting quite violent, which means-”

“He would have hated the sight of it, and decided to do them both in.” 

Mila held out her hand for a high-five and Yuuri, who was smiling, eagerly gave it to her. 

A noise behind Yuuri made him turn. Victor and Chris were snatching their coats and belongings up quickly, as they talked rapidly to each other. “Where are they going?” He wondered. 

“The other must have gotten the beginnings of a suspect list. The other two will want to interview as many people as they can, as quickly as they can. Victor glanced over, and gave Yuuri a smile before he and Chris made a beeline for the door. 

“You two are friends, right?” Yuuri blinked. Mila had a look he couldn't quite read on her face, it was almost … sympathetic, but not quite. Something hard and stony existed there, too.

“Yes, I suppose.” 

Mila simply nodded and went back to her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ COCA COLA IM ASSOCIATING YOUR PRODUCTS WITH MURDER, LEMME GET A FUCKIN UHHH SPONSORSHIP?
> 
> also I realize now that Voodoo Donuts was founded in 2001 but please let me live I don't have the energy to change it


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Close call,” murmured Yuuri, eyes on the new arrival. Victor realized with a jolt that he’d sat right next to him. _Is Yuuri’s desk really the one closest to the bathroom, or did I sit here on purpose?_ He laughed shakily in response, and Yuuri smiled slightly. His smile made Victor’s chest warm, and feeling blossomed until it was nearly unbearable, and he smiled back. _Is that friendship? Is that how platonic affection feels?_ He’d had friends before. They’d never made him feel quite so … 
> 
> Yuuri’s attention turned back to Clements, and Victor took in the sprinkle of freckles across his nose, and how his long eyelashes caressed his upper cheek bones. The warm, glowy feeling beat at him. 
> 
> … Giddy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is meaning in a name

As it had been for the past week, Yuuri looked chipper, and Victor looked tired. 

Yuuri wasn't quite sure what to say as they headed up the stairs to the police station; Victor’s under eyes were swollen and purple, his hair in complete disarray. He’d hardly seen Victor at all in the past few days, and now he couldn't help but wonder if the stress of the case was getting to his companion. 

“Victor?”

“Mm?”

“How are the interviews coming along?” 

Victor groaned quietly in response, and swayed slightly where he stood. Yuuri recoiled slightly in worry. “That bad?” Victor nodded again, and stumbled to the side. Yuuri caught him before he stumbled any further. The wrinkled white shirt that he was wearing smelled distinctly of alcohol. _Oh, so he’s just hungover._ This was still worrying; what reason did Victor have to drink so much in the middle of an investigation? “Maybe you should lay off the liquor a bit,” Yuuri commented quietly. Victor snorted quietly and allowed Yuuri to drag him up the stairs to the police station. He peeled himself off of the other man once the two of them reached the entrance of the building. The warm ghost of Yuuri’s figure lingered on Victor’s chest even as they separated to opposite sides of the room. _Strange,_ he thought, and shivered, trying to shake the feeling off. It didn't budge. 

Chris slid into the seat next to him, and Victor groaned again. “Yeah, yeah,” Chris murmured. “Make sure you spruce up before we have to interview anyone.”

“Good god, I don't want to talk to any more people.” 

“We only have a few more suspects on the current list.”

“Yeah, the _current_ list. We haven't found one person matching the character profile that Seung Gil is building, and they’re coming up with new names every hour. It’s been five days since we started this; can't there be a … more efficient route?”

“You were going to say _easier_ , I could tell. Go. Clean yourself up.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“Ask Yuuri to help you, you seem to find him spruce enough.”

Victor opened his eyes a crack and peered at Christophe. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing at all. Seriously, go, we’re heading out after Clements briefs us at 9:00.”

Victor shook his head and headed to the bathroom. 

He combed his hair with his fingers, and slicked it back with water. His skin shone with grease from the day before, and his eyes were dark and blood shot. No matter how he adjusted his mouth, it seemed to settle continuously into an angry frown. Over all, he looked more like a serial killer himself than someone trying to catch one. 

_What did Chris mean by that comment?_ He rubbed a bit of hand soap over his cheeks and splashed it off again with water. Had it simply been a comment on his friendship with Yuuri? Or could he be implying that there was more there? Romantic intentions, even? 

_That’s ridiculous._

He entered the task force room a moment before Clements, and plopped into the nearest seat he could find, not wanting to be singled out for his near-lateness. 

“Close call,” murmured Yuuri, eyes on the new arrival. Victor realized with a jolt that he’d sat right next to him. _Is Yuuri’s desk really the one closest to the bathroom, or did I sit here on purpose?_ He laughed shakily in response, and Yuuri smiled slightly. His smile made Victor’s chest warm, and feeling blossomed until it was nearly unbearable, and he smiled back. _Is that friendship? Is that how platonic affection feels?_ He’d had friends before. They’d never made him feel quite so … 

Yuuri’s attention turned back to Clements, and Victor took in the sprinkle of freckles across his nose, and how his long eyelashes caressed his upper cheek bones. The warm, glowy feeling beat at him. 

… Giddy?

Yuuri’s eyes flitted to the side, meeting Victor’s gaze for a moment, and he looked away. 

~•~

The report for the fourth murder was splayed messily across Yuuri and Mila’s desks, not unlike the bodies it portrayed, Mila had sarcastically noted. The medical reports of each body yielded a fair amount of information by itself, and Yuuri was poring through it, as Mila searched through the information on the people themselves.

“I don't get this one,” Mila said suddenly. “I mean, these two weren't a couple, they were just … in the vicinity of each other at the time. Everyone else had either a sexual or a romantic relationship.”

“How do we know they weren't a couple?” Yuuri asked, eyes scanning the man’s report. _Peter Anderson. 25._

“Because, Peter was from _Idaho._ ” Yuuri blinked, this was news. “He was couch hopping during a business trip in town; the two had never met before.” 

“Still, things can … happen,” Yuuri muttered. His trailed off as he scanned the woman’s medical report. _Annabelle Hutchens, 39._ “Nevermind, the report says they checked the body for any signs of sexual activity before the murder. Nothing.” He tossed the report to the side. “If she was renting her house out her house, is it possible that Lovebird was one of the people staying there?” 

Mila sat up. “I’ll have that looked into.” She scribbled what he’d said down. “If so, that would even further confirm that he lived in California.” 

“And that he has a job that lets him travel.” 

“Businessmen do have high rates of psychopaths in their ranks,” Mila said quietly. The two grinned at each other, for a moment, before a sentence on the sheet in front of Yuuri stood out at him. “Wait a moment,” he said quietly. He moved his finger across the page, searching, until what he found what he was looking for. Yuuri scoffed. “I found a motive for killing Anderson.”

Mila blinked. “What?”

“The forensics team for high levels of cocaine in his blood.” Mila almost gasped. “And none in Hutchens.”

“So Anderson snorts a line-” 

“Shows up acting crazy-”

“Annabelle gets angry with him-”

“Lovebird hears-”

“And does them both in. After all, the second couple were likely killed because they were fighting, as well. Bonus points for the coke, I doubt he’d approve of that.” 

“And if Lovebird could hear them, he was most likely in the building.” Mila held out her hand, and Yuuri high-fived it. She jumped up and sped across the room, toward Seung Gil, who currently handling case information. He listened as she rattled something off to him, and nodded quickly. Mila headed back over. 

“I had the occupants list checked out, and we can cross reference it with the list of van owners. I’m so excited. You’re a gift, Katsuki.” 

Yuuri blushed violently.

“Hey.” Clements appeared behind the two of them, and both flinched. “I hope you’ve got a lead if you’re making that much noise.” 

Mila spun around quickly. “We do, actually. Yuuri and I determined that Lovebird may have been one of the people staying in the house during the murder, since he would have had to hear the couple who were killed to actually know where they were. We’re having a list of recent occupants at Annabelle Hutchens’ house cross referenced with the list of car owners that Seung Gil put together.” 

“Why did Lovebird kill Annabelle Hutchens and Peter Anderson?” _Always quick to poke holes in our theories, isn't he._ Mila glanced at Yuuri for help, and he rose to stand by her side. Clements’ gaze fell upon him, and Yuuri felt as if he was staring down the open jaws of a crocodile. He prayed that Clements wouldn't bite his head off. 

“Anderson had a, uh.” _Calm down. Be calm._ “Anderson had a high level of cocaine in his system when he died. W-we think it’s possible that he was involved in a verbal conflict with Hutchens, which Lovebird heard, and acted upon.” 

Clements seemed to digest this theory well, and turned back to Mila. “Is that correct?” She nodded. What almost seemed like a smile crept up the side of his taut, grey face. “Very well. Good work today, Babichev. Have any names you find in my desk by tonight.” Then he spun on his heel, and was gone with a word to Yuuri. Mila watched him go with an expression of indignant anger on her face. 

“That was shitty.” 

“Mila-”

“You’ve been working just as hard as me, and he didn't even address you once. Did you know, that’s how he used to treat me, back when I just joined the police force? I was the only woman in the whole station back then, and don't think he ever let me forget it.” Mila sat down with a loud _whomp_ , and shuffled angrily through her papers. 

“It doesn't matter that he refuses to acknowledge me, Mila.” 

She frowned, and turned to him. “I know. But it’s still … listen.” Mila placed a hand on Yuuri’s forearm. “You’re an asset. You’re a _great_ asset. That’s why you’re here.”

His cheeks flushed again. “Thank you, Mila. That means a lot.” She let go of him and winked knowingly. Yuuri wasn't sure what the wink meant, but he didn't think on it too much. 

~•~

Victor arrived back at the police station around 5:30. Chris dumped the information they’d gathered from the day into Victor’s arms and peeled off of him to hang his things up. Victor sighed, staring down at the folders of notes in his arms. Half were his, half were in Chris’ illegible, curly scrawl, which added an extra hour of deciphering to the time it would take to write a report on today’s interviews. The idea of writing the report made Victor want to die, but already he could feel Clements’ gaze on his back, and knew he wouldn't leave them the police station without the paper on his superior’s desk. “Ugh.” 

“Victor.” He spun. Yuuri stood behind him, a small smile across his face. His hair was slightly rumpled, his eyes slightly droopy from working all day. For a moment, Victor couldn't help but think of the first time they’d met; him on his knees, desperately trying to quench the flow of blood from Yuuri's torso, Yuuri with his eyes lulling slight shut, his breaths wheezing in and out of his chest. That Yuuri’s face had been clenched tightly with pain, his full cheeks chalky pale with blood loss. This Yuuri looked a little tired, but his face held its usual healthy flush, and the smile was sincere. Something shifted in Victor. _I’m happy,_ he realized. _I’m so happy that Yuuri’s okay._

“Victor? You’re staring.” 

He blinked. _That’s not the first time I’ve zoned out while looking at Yuuri._ “I’m okay.” _What is wrong with me?_

Yuuri's smile widened with excitement. “We got a lead; we think Lovebird might have been staying at the house of the last murder, so we're cross referencing the list of recent occupants with the list of car owners.” 

“Yuuri, that’s amazing!”

“I know, I’m really happy. How’re the interviews coming along? Did you find anything today?”

Victor’s mood plummeted again as he stared down at the notes he held. “Um …” As they often did around Yuuri, a spontaneous thought occurred to him. “Can I tell you over dinner?”

Yuuri blinked, and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, he was cut off as Seung Gill placed a hand on his shoulder. “Katsuki, Victor.” His voice was quiet and sad. “You’re going to want to see this.” 

Mila, Seung Gil, Victor, and Yuuri crowded around his desk. An orange envelope lay on the table. Seung Gil spoke. “I cross referenced the names of the occupants in the house with the list of drivers we put together. Nothing came up.” Mila cursed quietly. “That’s not all, though. Look.” He pulled something from the envelope, and Victor stared at it for a moment, before realizing it was a sign-in sheet. Names of those staying at Annabelle’s house started around May, and listed all the way down to the date of the murder. However, the list was incomplete.

Someone had used a pair of scissors to remove the second to last name on it.

“Jesus,” Mila murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. Beside him, Yuuri stared, dumbfounded, at the list. An expression of despair and defeat curled the corners of his mouth. Victor felt his heart sink at the news, and at the look on his friend’s face. He placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri leaned into it slightly, needing the comfort of physical contact. 

“Well,” Yuuri murmured after a moment. “This does tell us a few things.” 

“Like what?” Mila sounded absolutely dead inside. 

“I think Lovebird has a certain fantasy, religious probably, that he fulfills by … shooting people. Afterward, he kind of … wakes up. He realizes that what he did will get him caught, so he disposed of the evidence. This part of him is calculating, cold, but terrified of getting caught.” _Slippery, impossible to get a hold of. Like a reptile._ Yuuri picked up the paper. “The cuts on this are messy. He wanted to get rid of the name, and he didn't care about being messy. That’s a different mentality than the man who shot six people perfectly through the head.” There was something quiet and cold about Yuuri’s voice that almost scared Victor. 

“Seven people.”

Yuuri’s eyes were fixed on the paper as he shook. “The bullet hit Tori on her jaw,” he whispered. “The others died quickly. Tori-”

Victor shook his shoulder. “Yuuri.” 

Yuuri gasped quietly. “Sorry, I … um.” He blinked quickly, eyes scared and wide. _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri._ Victor squeezed his shoulder slightly. _What do I do?_ “As I was saying. I think he has, um, two different mentalities when it comes to the killing part.” 

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Seung Gil said quietly, and even offered a comforting smile with the statement. “Who wants to tell Clements?” 

“He’ll eat Yuuri alive. I’ll do it,” Mila said, and gathered up the list. Yuuri opened his mouth to object, but she was already gone. He sighed quietly, and laced his fingers together, finding that they’d begun to tremble. 

“Are you alright?” Victor asked quietly. Yuuri nodded silently. “I’ve got a report to write on the interviews today, but after that I’m still up for dinner. Does that sound alright?”

This earned another smile; this one was tentative, but it was a real smile nonetheless. “Sure. I’d like that.” 

~•~

The two arrived at a bar near the station nearly an hour later. They sat in a booth to avoid the loud laughter of drunk men, and the gaze of anyone who might have an interest in the documents in Victor’s jacket. A waiter came around and poured them water. Yuuri ordered a lemonade. Victor ordered a red wine.

“Okay,” Victor said quietly once the waiter retreated. He pulled the file from his jacket and placed it on the table. “We’ve got about thirty-ish suspects right now, so I’m gonna tell you about the ones that Chris and I find the most suspicious, and then expand from there.” He opened the file and began sifting through the papers. “Oh, here’s one.

“Arthur Wright, 46. He lives in LA and he’s a truck driver, which means he has opportunity to move around the state freely. He’s pretty religious, though not as much as you’d expect for a religiously motivated serial killer. He’s about 6’1, widely set, african american.”

Yuuri took the straw of his lemonade from his mouth. “It’s not him,” he stated flatly. 

Victor blinked. “You’re sure?”

He nodded, thinking back. _The hand holding the gun had had pale, sausage-like fingers._ “I saw Lovebird’s hands when he shot me. He was pale. Probably white.” 

“Did we ever question you about that?”

 _Did they?_ “I don't remember.” 

“Well, that does eliminate a fair amount of suspects from the list.” Victor thought for a moment. “How pale was he?”

“Well …” Yuuri gently tugged Victor’s arm so that it lay on the table, and then place his own arm parallel to it. Victor was significantly paler and pinker that Yuuri was. “Lighter than me. A little darker than you.” 

“White, but not Russian white.” 

Yuuri snorted. “Exactly.”

Victor picked up another file, and flashed the photo on the front at Yuuri. “Italian white?” They both leaned in to see the suspect’s file. _He does look quite Italian._ He was pale, (he looked paler than Victor, but it could have been the lighting in the photograph) and his dark hair was slick, with grease or product Yuuri wasn't sure. “Xander Lagorio; 31, 5’11, white. He likes to gamble at different casinos across the state, and he doesn't have an alibi for any of the days people were murdered.”

“Why not?”

Victor purses his lips and then replied, “Because he says he was drunk.”

“On all of them?”

“Yep. He says he’s a Christian… ish.” 

“That … doesn't sound like our guy.”

“Yeah, we didn't think so either. Let's see … Fredrick Tussey. 46, 6’2, white. He lives in Redblu-”

“You two had to drive all the way up to _Redbluff?_ ” It was a small town in North California, and took nearly two and half hours by car. Yuuri was beginning to realize why Victor looked so worn out. 

“Yeah.” He gave a quiet, exhausted laugh. “Anyhow. He works at a local non-profit, so he has no business moving around the state, but he has no friends, and the only person who could confirm that he was home was his wife.”

“And she could be working with him.” 

“Exactly. Also, while we were interviewing him … I don't know. He was very … nervous. He stuttered a lot, sweated a lot.” 

“Like me.” 

Victor laughed quietly, and jokingly pushed Yuuri’s shoulder. “Don't put yourself down. No, he looked scared. Chris found it suspicious.”

“And you didn't?”

Victor grinned. “No. It reminded me of you.” 

Yuuri flushed, and scowled. His frown wasn't ugly or twisted, and Victor’s heart wanted to beat from his chest at the sight of it. The expression wasn't scary, it was, _actually, it was almost- ___

__“Hi!” Victor flinched. Their waiter was back. He sighed, his train of thought broken. “Are you two ready to order?”_ _

__The mood seemed to melt away, and Victor suddenly realized how much his head hurt, how tired his legs were. _What on earth possessed me to come to this restaurant?_ He placed his order as Yuuri scrambled to conceal the case files scattered across the table. Their waiter gave them a strange look, but didn't question that they were doing. _Good._ _ _

__As he left, Victor poured himself another glass of wine._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How have y'all been doing? Summer's treating me right 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the second bottle was nearly empty, and Victor began to take his shirt off, the amusement transformed quickly into concern. “Victor, I think that's enough.” Victor giggled and nodded. He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and Yuuri leaned across the table, gingerly avoiding their dishes, and did the buttons up again. Victor smiled lazily, and then suddenly leaned forward, resting his face on Yuuri’s outstretched hands. His lips gently pressed against Yuuri’s knuckle, and he almost squeaked. “Victor. Come on.” Victor made no sign of moving. “Up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. I kept re-writing the end of the chapter because I hated all the endings I gave it (I still do, but whatevs lmfao) anywho, enjoy!!

Chris stretched, and yawned. The time was almost midnight, and he’d just finished the bulk of his paperwork for the day. _Thank god, it’s Saturday, or I’d just sleep here instead of going home._ The prospect of having a day off to relax should have made Chris absolutely giddy, but right now, all he felt was tired. He slipped his jacket on, and flicked his desk light, emmersing the room in darkness. Hardly anyone was awake at this hour, and besides the occasional rush of an oncoming car from outside the station, and the sleepy chatter of officers on the night shift, the room gave nothing to stimulate Chris’ senses. He shivered. After today’s work, one couldn't help but image what, or who, might lurk in the shadows. Chris shook his head, and headed toward a sliver of light from under the door to the exit. Agreeing to let Victor have the night off with Yuuri and finish their work for the day had been a mistake he didn't intend to make again. He tripped over someone’s chair, and cursed quietly. 

_Speaking of mistakes involving Victor, I wonder if Yuuri’s realized what happens when he’s exposed to large amounts of alcohol yet._

~•~

Yuuri was beginning to realize what happened when Victor was exposed to large amounts of alcohol. 

He hadn't quite noticed anything wrong until a waitress came by and asked Victor if he wanted another bottle wine. _Another?_ He’d thought incredulously. _Surely he can't have finished …_ The wine bottle currently seated on the table stared at him innocently. Yuuri picked it up. It was light. Empty. 

_Wow._

Setting the bottle down, Yuuri looked up to tell the waitress that Victor had had enough. She was gone. “You didn't order another one, did you?”

Victor shrugged. Only then had Yuuri seen how red his cheeks were, how much his eyes drooped. 

It has been a mistake to let him have at the second bottle as he rattled through the list of suspects in the table. Yuuri watched in vague amusement as his friend’s descriptions became more and more lengthy. At some point, he described a suspect’s wife in incredible detail, before telling him three times (in a row) that the suspect’s hair had been red with blonde streaks. His jacket disappeared, Yuuri wasn't sure when. 

When the second bottle was nearly empty, and Victor began to take his shirt off, the amusement transformed quickly into concern. “Victor, I think that's enough.” Victor giggled and nodded. He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and Yuuri leaned across the table, gingerly avoiding their dishes, and did the buttons up again. Victor smiled lazily, and then suddenly leaned forward, resting his face on Yuuri’s outstretched hands. His lips gently pressed against Yuuri’s knuckle, and he almost squeaked. “Victor. Come on.” Victor made no sign of moving. “Up.” 

He looked up, and his head lulled backward dramatically. Yuuri rolled his eyes, and let go of the man’s collar. Their waitress approached the table again, mild concern painted across her face. “Can I get you-”

“We’re finished.” Yuuri almost snapped, but stopped himself. “The check. Please.” 

“Sure,” she turned on her heel and strode away quickly. Yuuri hauled Victor upright, and tied the man’s coat about his waist. Victor tried to shove it off, but Yuuri gave him a firm, “ _No,_ ” and though he pouted, he didn't try to undress himself again. Yuuri kept Victor in the corner of his eye as he packed up the files they’d been going over. _I’m going over these myself,_ he decided once they were all away. Their waitress arrived a few minutes later, toting their check. Yuuri paid it and left a half-hearted tip. Victor groaned as Yuuri slung his arm over his shoulder, and stood. His stomach ached angrily as he strained it to stand. It was all he could do to keep Victor’s weight from making his knees buckle, but with a grunt, and plenty of pleading to his drunken friend, Yuuri was able to lift him from the seat and away from the table. Victor straightened up slightly as they began to walk. 

“Mmsorry,” he mumbled into Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“You’re fine,” squeaked Yuuri.

“I didn't mean to-”

“It’s alright, really-” Yuuri’s back brace dug into his ribs. He gritted his teeth. They were nearly to the door. _Come on._ Yuuri pushed the door open with his foot. “Come on. Come on, Victor.” They stumbled from the pub, and Victor decided it would be a fantastic moment to go completely limp. Yuuri shrieked as the two, attached by his grasp at the shoulder, fell to the side, onto the ground. The lukewarm sidewalk smacked his jaw. 

_This must be karma,_ he thought, _for the times Phichit's had to handle me in this state._

Victor slowly picked himself up. “I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he wobbled over. “Are you okay, I’m-” 

Yuuri laughed. Full heartedly, happily. “Victor,” he said, pulling himself to his feet, “I’m fine.” The other man smiled hesitantly and nodded. Then, he swayed again. Yuuri came forward quickly and hugged Victor to his chest. He smelled, and his clothes were far too hot from the feverish skin underneath. “Let’s go home, come on.” Victor leaned against him again, and together, they stumbled toward Victor’s car. Yuuri fished the keys from Victor’s pocket, and unlocked the passenger side door. Victor obediently seated himself inside, and didn't question it as Yuuri slid into the driver’s seat. This car was similar to his parents, the one he’d learned in. “Victor, I think you’re gonna stay at my house tonight. I owe you my life and all, but I’m really not in the mood to drive all the way to your place tonight.” _Not to mention I don't know what your address is._ Victor grunted in response. “Alright. My house it is.” 

~•~

The room was dark, save for a light on Yuuri's dresser. He sat, exhausted, on the side of his bed. His watch read nearly 1:00 AM. Soft, slow breaths wafted through the room from beside him. Yuuri sighed, smiling slightly, and turned to make sure Victor was still fast asleep. The large lump under his comforter that was his coworker stayed unmoving. With only one guest room in the house, Yuuri had been booted from his temporary housing. 

Yuuri wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Still, there was no work tomorrow. The stack of suspect profiles beside him beckoned him. Victor’s descriptions of each suspect had been … less than useful, and he needed to be briefed on the case. _They’re not going to read themselves,_ he thought ruefully. 

The first profile depicted a wispy blonde man with a balding patch at the center of his head. _Klaus Lange._ 41, had had familial ties to several Nazis before he immigrated to the states. _They probably suspect him just for that._ Yuuri felt moderately certain that Lovebird wasn’t driven by _that_ ideology; he couldn't be sure, but the crimes showed no signs of it, besides their obvious sway toward fundamental Christianity. Yuuri checked the physical measurement of the man, and snorted. _5’6._ He thought of the man who'd towered over him, gun in hand.

 _No, Klaus isn't quite Lange enough to be Love Bird._

The next profile portrayed an Indian man with deep golden skin. _It’s not him._ Yuuri set it to the side. 

The next was a huge, hulking Asian man named Gerald Alexander Luu. _35, works for a hotel chain that runs throughout the Northwest. That would allow him to move around, if he transferred hotels a few times._ He glanced at the physical descriptions and blanched. Gerald weighed 250 pounds, and stood at 6’5. His wide shoulders and heavily muscled frame didn't match the image of Lovebird in Yuuri’s mind, but that wasn't quite enough to persuade him completely against Gerald being the killer. He set the profile next to Klaus’ profile, and the first profile, which he had stacked atop each other. _This is the no pile, and this is the maybe pile,_ he thought sleepily. 

_Elias Mercier._

_Richard Varga Junior._

_Phineas M. Doyer._

_Mabuz Fraiser._

The profile belonging to the last name coughs Yuuri’s attention. The man depicted was deathly pale, with jet black hair, and bright blue eyes. He glanced through the notes on the profile. _6’1, lives with his wife, plumber, noticeably conservative points of view._ A plumber would be able to move around the state to different cities. Yuuri had a vague recollection of Victor describing this man; his drunken face had bunched angrily as he’d explained how scary he had been to talk to. The bright blue eyes on the paper stared at Yuuri, and on some strange instinct, he turned it over, so that the photo wouldn't look at him any longer. 

_I think I’ll go to bed now._

He placed the paper, still face down, onto the maybe pile. _Good god, I’m tired._ Yuuri slipped his shoes off, and shuffled across the room to a mat that his mother had set up for him while he and Toshiya had settled Victor. Normally, he would dread the aching muscles that were the result of sleeping on such a hard surface, but all he felt now was tired. Yuuri barely remembered to take off his back brace before he slumped onto the pillow. Warmth washed over his body, and he seemed to sink into the floor as sleep took him. His eyes drifted closed, and the world swirled away. 

_Yuuri sat in an empty bar. It wasn’t unlike the bar he’d been in earlier that night, but the walls were a deeper purple, and the lights were much lower. An upbeat jazz tune echoed quietly through the room. Yuuri was sure he’d never been to this bar before; he hardly ever went drinking, for he had few friends and the consequences were always messy._

_A single glass of amber liquid sat before him. Yuuri picked it up; took an experimental sip of it. The liquid tasted like nothing. He swirled it once about the glass, and then threw the whole thing back._

_”That stuff will kill you, you know.”_

_Yuuri turned. Someone sat beside him; their face and hair was covered with a dark hood. He frowned. The figure remained still. An intense wave of trepidation gripped him, though he didn't know why._

_”This song was written to honor someone,” the figure said, gesturing about the room. “Someone like me.”_

_“What do you mean?” Yuuri found himself asking. Something about whoever sat beside him made his skin crawl; the figure’s height, the way he held himself, it was almost ... familiar._

_The figure turned, and Yuuri felt every muscle in his body tighten. A pair of beige nylons were pulled taut over the figure’s face. Through the tights, two yellow, reptilian eyes glowed._

~•~

Victor woke to the sound of of whispers. 

He slid from a bed that wasn't his. Sweat soaked his button down shirt, and his pants. A headache pulsed angrily within his skull. _I went drinking._ The unfamiliar room confirmed his suspicion. The walls were a yellow-cream, the blankets soft and warm. Shame rolled Victor’s stomach. Someone had had to put him into bed as he assailed them with drunken slurring. _God, I’m an embarrassment._ Something about the air caught Victor’s interest. The whole room smelled familiar, almost like- 

Victor planted his foot on something, then lifted it up again. The profiles he’d had with him the day before had been organized into three piles. _I was with Yuuri last night. Does that mean …?_ As he shifted, the covers rustled. The sound of whispering stopped abruptly. 

“Hello?” Victor winced. The sound of his own voice made his headache flare slightly. 

The door to the room opened. Victor sat up straighter, expecting Yuuri, and frowned slightly when a face that wasn't his came through the doorway. A tall woman, her dark hair held up in a hair band, approached him. Now that he thought of it, she looked familiar; she looked quite like Yuuri, but that wasn't it. He thought back. 

_She opened the door that night that I … barged in._

“How are you?” Her voice sounded like Yuuri’s too; more feminine, but the similarity was there. 

“I’m alright. Where … am I?”

The woman smiled dryly. “The humble residence of Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki. You were kind of …”

“Intoxicated?”

She snorted. “I was going to say hammered, but sure.” _Yuuri put me to bed. Yuuri’s family saw me while I was drunk._ Guilt made Victor flush. The woman ignored his obvious discomfort. “I don't think we’ve been introduced; I’m Mari. Katsuki.” 

“Victor Nikiforov.” The two shook hands. “Where is Yuuri, by the way?” 

Mari’s face changes almost immediately. The dry humor in her eyes was gone, replaced by something dark and sad. “Yuuri is …” She purses her lips, and glanced back at the doorway. “My brother has been through a lot. Sometimes … he isn't able to …” She gestured vaguely toward a sleeping mat that was set up on the ground by the foot of the bed, “ … sleep well.” 

Victor frowned. “Did he have a … _nightmare_?”

Mari didn't answer. “My brother is resting right now. Please let him alone for a while.” Victor didn't understand, but he nodded. A voice called out in a language that he didn't understand. “I have to go. Stay here; go back to sleep.”

“Sure- wait, wh-” Yuuri’s sister slipped from the room as quickly as she’d come. He considered waiting for a moment, but curiosity pulled him roughly from the bed, and he slipped silently out of the room. 

The hall outside was familiar; the right end led to the main room, which lead to the front door. He’d peering into this home from the opposite directions few weeks ago. A sound Victor couldn't quite place drew him down the opposite end of the hall. He trode silently forward; the sound became louder. As Victor grew closer, he realized with a jolt what it was. 

It was somebody _sobbing._

A male voice.

Soft, low. Strained. 

Choked Japanese cut the sound of crying apart. 

_Yuuri._

Dread dropped like a weight in Victor’s stomach, and he reeled slightly, taking a not-so-stealthy step backward. _Yuuri. Yuuri’s crying. That’s Yuuri crying._

_Why is he crying? What happened to him? What kind of dream could possibly-_

_Could it be like-_

_“... you’re fine, you’re going to be completely fine-”_

_The sound of gasping and crying echoed loudly to Victor’s room, and he slipped from his bed, confused by the sounds. “Gregory, please, you’ll wake Victor.” His mother sounded terrified. A faint rumble caught Victor’s attention as another plane began to approach their house. His father’s breaths were so loud, so quick, that they spread through all the air in the house like black ink in water. Victor scrambled back into bed, and pressed his pillow to his ears, desperate to escape._

Mama says the war is over, _he remembered thinking desperately._ These planes won't hurt us.

Yuuri was speaking in quiet, rapid-fire Japanese, and Victor gasped quietly as he returned to the present.

His sister told him something, also in Japanese, and the soft, scared sobs from before subsided into sniffles. Victor wished he knew what they were saying. He wished that his feet weren't rooted to the spot; he wished to move. He wished he could do something, anything. The same feeling from all those years ago. 

_Yuuri’s never been in a war, but perhaps …_

Victor turned quickly, and slipped back into his room. 

_“My brother has been through a lot.”_

He sat on the bed, and picked up the profiles stacked on the ground. If Yuuri had sorted them in some way, Victor at least owed it to him to figure out his friend’s train of thought. 

Muffled speech still echoed from down the hallway. Victor did his best to ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a few days ago that I'd made Victor's birthplace The Soviet Union, 1941, which probably would have put him in the middle of a war zone, and I felt that I had to do something with that. There will be more on Victor's nuclear family later, I promise. 
> 
> As always, if anything seems off (characterizations, social climate, details in the story) feel free to tell me in the comments. I also love it when you guys talk about your theories for the story, so don't hold back about those, either. Thank you so much for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is Mila alright?” Yuuri asked quietly. 
> 
> “Yes,” Victor found himself saying quietly. “I think she’s okay. A ... friend of hers was in an accident, so she’s going to visit her in the hospital.” 
> 
> The guarded, tense expression Yuuri had been wearing softened. “Oh. I’m sorry, do you think- I mean, did you know the person?” 
> 
> “No.” _Sort of._ “Not really. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Yuuri nodded. His brows were furrowed with worry. 
> 
> “If there’s … anything at all that I can do to help, you’ll tell me?” 
> 
> He couldn't help but smile a little bit at that. _Yuuri always wants to help people. I love him._ “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so late, been pretty busy!

Yuuri entered his room around 10:00 AM that Sunday morning, and it took him a solid fifteen seconds to realize he wasn't alone. Victor simply stared at him from where he was perched on the rumpled sheets of the bed, until, finally, he cleared his throat. Yuuri jumped. 

“Good morning.” 

“Good morning, Victor.” It was a breathless phrase. Yuuri’s cheeks flushed and he looked down. The piles of profiles from the night before were in front of Victor, out of their neat piles and in apparent disarray. “Did you-”

“Don't worry, I know where everything goes, I just … wanted to sort through things. See what you’d figured out. These are the people you find suspicious, right?” He pointed to a general area of the mess of papers. It could have been the remains of the maybe pile; Yuuri was unfocused to focus on it. 

“Yes, it is.” He still wasn't meeting Victor’s eyes. Turning his back to the other man, Yuuri began to pack the mat he’d slept on away. Something in Victor wanted to help, even though it was quite an elementary task. Bags hung under his friend’s eyes, and his hair was rumpled and greasy. Once in awhile, Yuuri would grimace as the back brace dug in at uncomfortable angles. Victor had seen Yuuri look grumpy in the morning, groggy, even, but this Yuuri almost looked _unhinged. What do I do?_ Unbearable silence followed for a few seconds. 

“Yuuri-”

“I-I’m fine, now, I mean, I just had a-” 

“No, it’s not that. I mean- nevermind.” Victor chewed his bottom lip. “I just wanted to apologize for last night. It was completely indecent of me to drink that much. Especially in public. And you had to take care of me afterward; I know I’m not very pleasant when I’m … Yuuri, I’m sorry.” Victor’s face burned with shame, and he stared down at his shoes. 

Yuuri laughed quietly, and Victor looked up, shocked. The smaller man stood, and slipped onto the side of the bed, where Victor sat. Their hands were tantalizingly close together, and though Yuuri remained half a foot from him, Victor could feel the warmth of his body radiating outward.

“The first time I went drinking, I took off all of my clothing, and the vomited on my crush’s shoes,” Yuuri said quietly. Victor laughed, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “It’s okay. It’s funny. She never talked to me again.” 

“Oh, Yuuri.”

Yuuri glanced up at him, eyes wide, then back down to the floor, still flushing slightly. “What I’m trying to say is,” he continued quickly, “I’m as messy of a drunk as you'll ever meet. In fact, most of my family is. So, no one in this house thinks ill of you, I promise.” He smiled reassuringly. “Besides, you weren't that difficult.” 

The anecdote had been funny, and Victor felt a bit of relief. He laughed again. “That’s a lie. I’m an awful drunk.” 

“No, you aren't, really. I mean, you’re a bit … touchy, but you follow directions well enough. You never tried to fight anyone; that’s more than my sister can say.” Yuuri giggled, his eyes twinkling. Victor couldn't help but notice how deep and chocolate-y brown they were when the sunlight caught them just right. 

“Still.”

“Still. It was irresponsible. You should probably phone home and tell Other Yuri that you’re fine.” 

His fear of Yuuri’s disappointment receding, Victor nodded. He felt lighter, as though something had slipped from his back and melted into the mattress they both sat on. Yuuri still looked slightly haggard, but his warm smile and flushed cheeks seemed to say that he’d be alright. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

Unwillingly, Victor slipped from the bed. “Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“How are you?”

It was quite a loaded question, and they both groaned inwardly as it was uttered; Victor, because he hadn't meant to spring something like that on his friend, and Yuuri because, well, his answer was complicated. 

“I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” With that, he turned back to the files. Victor felt the need to apologize, but instead, he turned, and went to look for the phone. 

~•~

The next day started with a bang. 

Yuuri and Victor stepped up to the station, and were immediately met with a line of dyed police rope. It was strung across the stairs leading to the entrance, blocking them off completely. Groups of policemen were clustered at the doors, and several forensics experts were peering at them, eyes narrowed. Yuuri and Victor glanced at each other. “Hey,” one of the officers by the door called. “Go around back.” The two exchanged another glance, before nodding. 

When they reached the task force room, Victor made a beeline for Chris, who was by the desk the two shared. The papers on it were in disarray, and not the kind of organized disarray that Victor often worked in, and could easily make sense of. The papers had been tossed about, rifled through, since he’d left. “What the hell is this?” he said quietly. 

Chris shook his head. “I don't know. It was like this when I got here.” 

“Alright, listen up.” Every member of the task force straightened as Paul Clements entered the room from his office. The man looked as terrifying as ever, but something about how he held himself, and how his eyes fluttered about put Yuuri on edge. _He’s worried._

“There was a break-in on Saturday night.” Audible gasps echoed through the room. “The perpetrator broke in through the front door around 4:00 AM. Officers in the building did not hear the perpetrator enter. We do not know how far they got into this building, but if some of your belongings were not where they were at the beginning of the weekend, that is why. Now, everything in this room has already been photographed and investigated, so you may move your things. Moreover, this will _not_ hinder your progress on this case. I want your full focus today. Is that absolutely clear?” Everyone nodded, and a few “yessir”’s were muttered out. “Good. Get to work.” With that, he turned on this heel and stepped back into his office. Silence hung over the crowd for a moment, before the task force burst into movement. 

Victor plunked down into his desk, and began to half heartedly reorganize his papers. Yuuri had appeared beside him some time during Clements’ speech, and leaned over as much as he could to help him. A thought occurred to Victor, one that had occurred to the rest of the task force. “Yuuri, do you think the person who broke in was-” 

“I don't want to think about that,” Yuuri said quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Right. Sorry I mentioned it.” 

After that, the day began normally. Victor delivered a report he’d written on their current list of suspects to Clements’ desk. It was accepted with a quite grunt. Even Clements looked tired. This case was taking a toll on everyone, even their stone-like commander. Yuuri got the two of them coffee around midday, and the two of them chatted over suspicious pieces of information. Around 1:30, someone came in and announced that they’d found a black piece of hair stuck in the door knob of the main entrance. Chris had sprung up at this, and run from the room. Presumably to look at the hair. 

Everything was normal, until Mila got a phone call. 

No one in the room noticed when she picked up, besides Yuuri, who sat next to her. He was preoccupied by the fact that Fredrick Tussey, who he’d deemed quite suspicious indeed, had a close friend who’d worked in and with the Mafia. Lovebird wasn't a collection of Mafia killings; Yuuri had no reason to be taken out, and none of the others had, either, but it upped his suspicion. He stared at Tussey’s photo. _It might just be-_

Mila slammed the phone down into its receiver. Yuuri flinched. 

A silence filled their half of the room like a small contagion. “Mila, are you-” 

Without a word, she got up, and strode quickly across the room. Yuuri stared after her.

Mila stopped beside Victor’s desk. He barely glanced up. “So the thing in my dream,” he continued to Chris, who sat beside him, “it was maybe ten feet tall-”

“Victor, I need to talk to you.”

“Just a moment. It had ten eyes, and-”

“Victor.”

“-Five arms, and a-”

“Витя.” Victor blinked. It had been awhile since someone had used that name for him. “Выходи. Пожалуйста.” It had been longer since someone had spoken to him in his native language. He glanced at Chris, who looked vaguely confused, but not as if he was going to mention it later. 

“Хорошо,” he replied quietly. The two left the room quickly. Yuuri’s eyes followed them out the door. 

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Victor turned to Mila. “Why are you speaking in Russian?” 

“What do you mean?” Mila asked. Her hands were trembling; she clenched them together.

“You know what people will think-”

“That’s not what this is about.” Her voice was sharp. Victor flinched. He hadn't realized before, but Mila didn't look so good. She was shaking, just slightly. Tears were welling in her eyes. 

“Oh, Jesus, are you okay?” 

“I’m-” Mila sniffled. “You know Sala, Michele’s sister?”

“Sure.” Victor didn't know how to handle the near-tears woman before him, so he awkwardly placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“I’ve been seeing her for about five months now.” Victor opened his mouth. Mila plowed through. “Michele just called me. He said that she was attacked, probably by multiple-” her voice cracked horribly, “m-multiple people, uhm.” She broke off, a hand over her mouth. 

_Say something._ “What do you mean, seeing her?” 

“Romantically,” Mila croaked. 

_Oh._

“I’m going to go see her now, I just, I needed to tell someone,” she rambled. “I mean, we don't know if it was because she was with me, or because she's just a pretty woman, or because she’s _Italian,_ just … stay safe, alright?” 

“Uh.” _God, how do I respond to this?_ Victor hadn't even known that Mila was interested in that demographic before today, much less that she was seriously dating Michele’s sister. “Is the sister that he’s obsessively protective over?” 

Mila laughed. “Yeah. It’s a struggle, but you know how it is.” 

Victor blinked. “I-I don’t think I do, actually- Mila, why are you tell me this?”

“I didn't have anyone else to tell. Not anyone I could … trust. Just make sure you’re safe, Витя. Okay?” 

“Wait, Mila-”

“Hey.” The two of them flinched, and spun about. Yuuri had slipped, unnoticed, through the exit to the task force room, and stood beside them, his face unreadable. _How much did he hear?_ the two thought in unison. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” Mila swiped at her cheeks with her sleeves. Yuuri’s gaze fell on Victor, and he tried to hold the gaze for a moment, before dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’m going now. Victor … I’ll see you later.” 

“Mil-” _What does she mean, I’m the only one she can trust? Why is she telling me all this?_ But she was already gone, jogging down the hall. The two men watched her form retreat in heavy silence. Victor wanted answers, but he shook his head, unwilling to run after her. As he turned to leave, Yuuri caught his arm. A jolt of something Victor couldn't quite place ran up from the spot they connected. The feeling bubbled up into Victor’s chest, but was quickly washed over by confusion from the former interaction, and more, springing from the bubbly feeling itself. _What is happening? What is going on?_

“Is Mila alright?” Yuuri asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Victor found himself saying quietly. “I think she’s okay. A ... friend of hers was in an accident, so she’s going to visit her in the hospital.” 

The guarded, tense expression Yuuri had been wearing softened. “Oh. I’m sorry, do you think- I mean, did you know the person?” 

“No.” _Sort of._ “Not really. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Yuuri nodded. His brows were furrowed with worry. 

“If there’s … anything at all that I can do to help, you’ll tell me?” 

He couldn't help but smile a little bit at that. _Yuuri always wants to help people. I love him._ “Of course.” 

“Alright.” Yuuri’s grip on his arm slackened, and slid down to his hand, before collapsing entirely. The feeling of his fingers on Victor’s lingered, even after he turned to walk back down the hall. The strange feeling that Yuuri seemed to stir in him beat insistently at his chest. 

And then, like a cold flash, a realization struck Victor through the heart. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he said quietly. Yuuri nodded, barely looking back. 

As soon as he was gone from the hall, Victor ran. 

He ran all the way to the bathroom, but someone was at the sink, so he plunged into one of the stalls, and locked it behind him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. 

_The thing I just thought-_

The feeling that emotion that every song described, the feeling plays were written about, the feeling that people died for- 

_The feeling I feel when I’m around Yuuri is-_ Victor shook his head violently. It was impossible. Bizarre. Unheard of. 

_Romantic. They’re romantic feelings. I’m in love with Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki, my male coworker._

Victor’s head reeled. 

_Good God._

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of whether this new development in his identity made sense or not. He wasn't sure. School and success had been the only thing Victor had ever focused on ever since he’d arrived in the states; life wasn't easy on ten year old Soviet immigrants to the US, and there had been no time for relationships, or thinking about them in detail. Had he ever had crushes? High school seemed like a far off blur, but he thought back. Victor hadn't been a _loner;_ he knew people had been friends with him, but ultimately all he remembered was a haze of textbooks and homework. He’d been defining his feelings for Yuuri as friendship for nearly two months now, but the more he thought about it, the more they were _most definitely not._ If he’d had feelings in the past for … anyone, really, but especially another man, he likely would have brushed them off his shoulder without a second thought. 

Still, he was nearly thirty, and he hadn't come to terms with this until now. 

_Jesus, Nikiforov. My past relationships, how many of them did I mistake for simple friendship? And why is Yuuri different?_

Another, smaller realization hit him; Mila had told him about her and Sala because she thought he was gay as well. _But I’m not,_ he thought quickly. Almost automatically. 

_But you are,_ his mind argued back. 

_I have romantic feelings toward Yuuri Katsuki._

_Oh my God._

Through the doubt, confusion, and fear in him, the light, bubbling feeling still pulsed. 

Affection. Love. 

That word scared him; it was strong, and big, and something he’d never touched before. _A crush,_ he amended. It felt slightly schoolgirl-ish, but it didn't terrify him the way the l-word did. _I have a crush on Yuuri._

_So this is it. The butterflies in your stomach, the_ vie en rose, _this is what everyone talks about._

In his mind's eye, Yuuri smiled, and Victor melted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP I FINALLY DID IT
> 
> Anyway, as always, if anything seems off in the story, feel free to tell me. Comments and likes are really really appreciated! Thank, and I'll see yall next time!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you for housing me these last months.” Yuuri’s father signed the message again for his wife, who smiled sadly. 
> 
> “ _It was our pleasure. We love you. Now, go to Phichit._ ” 
> 
> Again, Yuuri nodded. “Goodbye.”
> 
> The car waiting outside was new; after the police were done testing the one Yuuri’d been shot in, Phichit had auctioned it off at a rather high price, and bought a new one. He grinned from the passenger seat as Yuuri trotted down the stairs, bags in hand. “Hey, hot stuff. You need a ride?” 
> 
> “Stop it.”

Several minutes later, after splashing his face with water, and combing his fingers through his hair, Victor trotted back to the task force room. His head still reeled slightly, but something about the realization felt slightly freeing. At the same time, it was absolutely terrifying. When Emil had waved at him in the hall, Victor had _flinched._ It was certainly something he’d have to hide completely from outside view. Victor hadn't had anything like that before. 

“Nikiforov.” 

He flinched again. Clements’ deep set eyes bored into him. Victor was an average height man; his boss towered over him. “I don't pay you to take twenty minute breaks. Where’s the woman?” 

Victor gulped. “She had a family emergency and had to leave. I’m sorry for leaving for so long. It won't happen again.” 

Clements was silent, and held Victor’s gaze until he eventually had to look down. Even then, he kept staring. Victor felt his palms begin to sweat. He knew it wasn't possible; he hadn't undergone some sort of physical transformation while he was in the bathroom, but the question still lingered on his mind. 

_Can he tell?_

But he looked away after that long look. “See that it doesn't,” he replied. 

Victor let out a sigh of relief as soon as he passed out of earshot. Clements’ sunken gaze was unnerving, to say the least. Victor felt as though it still burned into his back as he trotted into the task force room. _Now to finish explaining my dream to Chris-_

“Hey, Victor.” 

That was a familiar voice. Slowly, Victor turned to face Yuuri Katsuki. His glasses were slightly askew, and his hair was rumpled. Victor’s heart slammed against his ribs. _Oh my God, he’s cute._ If Yuuri sensed any change in Victor, he didn't show it. “Come look at this,” he said, holding out a profile. Victor almost groaned; he was tired of being handed profiles and expected to analyze them. Yuuri swiveled about to his side, and pointed from over his shoulder. A new paper had been clipped to the original profile (Xander Lagorio’s). It also depicted him, but this picture was younger, and sported a clean shaved face and a military uniform. “He was in the army. No one else would have a reason to be able to shoot as well as Lovebird can.” 

“How did you find these?” Victor asked. 

“Oh, I was helping Seung Gil run background checks. We stumbled on it.” 

“That’s great ... isn't this the guy that drinks himself to sleep most nights, though?” 

Yuuri’s face fell. “Right. Sorry.” 

_Crap._ “No, no, I mean, thank you. This is great. Sorry, I didn't mean to be dismissive.” _I really have no idea how to talk to him._

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “It’s alright. Are you … alright? You’re acting a little bit … I don't know. Odd.” 

“I’m alright,” Victor practically squeaked. 

_God._

~•~

“Are you sure that this is fine?” Yuuri’s mother signed. 

Yuuri sighed. Two bags full of clothing hung from each of his hands. “Dad, tell Mom I’m fine.” 

“ _He says he’s fine,_ ” signed Toshiya. Turning to his son, he added, “She only worries because we love you, Yuuri.”

“I know. But moving back in with Phichit isn't a huge deal. I’m barely two miles from you two.”

Toshiya nodded. “We know. We just ... what with all that’s happened … well, you know.” A car horn blared outside. “That’s him.” 

“Thank you for housing me these last months.” Yuuri’s father signed the message again for his wife, who smiled sadly. 

“ _It was our pleasure. We love you. Now, go to Phichit._ ” 

Again, Yuuri nodded. “Goodbye.”

The car waiting outside was new; after the police were done testing the one Yuuri’d been shot in, Phichit had auctioned it off at a rather high price, and bought a new one. He grinned from the passenger seat as Yuuri trotted down the stairs, bags in hand. “Hey, hot stuff. You need a ride?” 

“Stop it.” He placed his belongings in the back seat, and then slid around to the passenger’s. Phichit giggled, before placing a hand on Yuuri’s arm. “I missed you, man.” 

“I missed you, too.” 

“Ready to finally move out of your parent’s place?” 

“ _God_ yes.” 

They arrived back at their shared apartment minutes later. It was on the second floor of a towering apartment complex that took up much of the block. It was a two bedroom, with a shared bathroom, and lots of windows; neither of them could ever have afforded it on their own. Phichit grabbed a bag from Yuuri, and they proceeded together into the building. He smiled as he walked in; the building smelled familiar, almost ‘like home’ as much as his parents place did. The two tiptoed up the stairs as not to wake their neighbors, whispering to each other as they ascended. Phichit unlocked the door to their place, and Yuuri stepped in, before swelling with happiness at the sight of it. Scoring this apartment had been he and Phichit’s greatest accomplishment after they finished college; simply stepping in reminded Yuuri of how good it was to be back. “I’ll put these in your room,” Phichit said, slipping past him. Yuuri nodded, grinning. 

As much as he loved Hiroko and Toshiya, it was good to be back. 

~•~

Chris stretched, and his back gave five sickening yet satisfying pops. 

This would hopefully be the last time he returned to house of Annabelle Hutchins. Being part of forensics unit meant having to visit the crime scene many times, and this case required it even more than usual, since it was likely Lovebird had been living in the house for some amount of time. Chris practically knew the house inside out. He wondered sometimes who understood the place better; him, or Annabelle. Those thoughts tended to float away quickly once he entered the main room; though the bodies were gone, the blood stains had never really left the floor, and the faint, coppery smell of blood persisted. 

Chris could have gone his entire life without smelling _that_ ever again. 

It was late, and the sun had relinquished its grip on the earth hours ago. Navigating the house with only the light of his and the other police officer’s flash light was difficult, not to mention terrifying, so he prepared to leave for the night, Chris turned the case over in his head as he packed up his things. _Religious motivation, huh?_ He knew that Mila and Yuuri had theorized about the last interactions between the two victims before their demise; there _had_ been coke in the man’s system, and after looking into the rules of Annabelle’s rented rooms, she likely would be been angry about his use of the drug on her property. A conflict between the two of them could have … well, created whatever kind of twisted urge a serial killer might have. 

_But how did Annabelle know about the cocaine?_ Unless he’d stumbled from his room, white powder smear across his face (which he hadn't, there hadn't been a trace of the stuff on the outside of the man’s face when his body was examined) Chris couldn't image how Annabelle would have found out. Had she gone through his things? It seemed unlikely. 

Having already examined the bathroom thoroughly (at least three times), Chris used it to its original purpose without feeling much guilt. No new thoughts occurred about the case during that time, and he washed his hands in a disgruntled manner, before the slamming the water off. 

The middle nozzle of the sink bounced, slightly, to the side. 

Chris glared, and almost reached to fix it, before instinctually recoiling, and putting his gloves back on. _Stupid,_ he thought, as they were half way on. _We’ve already finished with this room. And it’s not like …_

Well.

_Maybe._ Chris briefly thought back to the fragments of Lovebird’s personality that the rest of the team had spliced together from the crime scenes. Lovebird likes things to be exact, that was something that Chris remembered distinctly. The shots to the exact center of the head had been what signified that, hadn't it? Chris peered at the slightly-skewed sink nozzle. There was a smudge of white, right where one might grip the nozzle. 

_Maybe. Just … maybe._

~•~

Yuuri woke in his own bed for the first time in months. Though the mattress was cheaper than the one at his parents house, and by extension, less comfortable, he loved it all the same. This room was larger than the one he’d been staying in; the left wall was light green, as was the far wall, which had a large window facing out toward the street. Though summer was no more, the air was still warm and comfortable. The right was made of the same brick as the walls of the apartment building itself. Yuuri practically swooned at the sight of all of it. He loved this apartment. 

There was no noise from the other rooms, so Yuuri slipped silently from his bed, and into the living room. “Phichit?” The apartment was silent in response. _Huh._ Yuuri’s roommate was usually there when he woke up. He spun around the counter in their small, barely furnished kitchen. A piece of paper was pinned to it, under a cup of cooling coffee. Yuuri squinted. _Crap, where did I put my glasses?_ He slipped the paper from under the coffee, and retreated back to his bedroom to read. 

_Yuuri,_

_Work called. There’s been a robbery; nothing big, they just wanted me to go check on it before everything gets cleaned up. It certainly isn’t a front-page story, but duty calls, right? The coffee’s for you. Have a nice day at work._

_P_ He’s then drawn a little smiling head to end the note.

Yuuri sighed. The work he did was hard, but Phichit’s work at the newspaper sounded awful to him; since he worked lower down in the organization, his boss often found it suitable to call him at any ungodly hour of the night, urging him to find some story that one of the interns might have caught wind of. Half of the time it was bullshit, and his poor roommate would come stumbling back to bed at 2:00 AM, grumbling to himself about the unfairness of the newspaper industry. 

_A robbery, huh?_ Yuuri wondered briefly if he’d catch wind of it at work. 

~•~

“It was one of our officers,” Victor said as Yuuri slipped into the back of his car. 

“What?”

The bus had broken down, and with Phichit gone, Yuuri hadn’t had a way to get to work. He settled into the seat, leaned back as the car took off erratically. 

“The robbery, you heard about it, right?” Yuuri nodded slowly. “The guy who got robbed, Jake Thomas Andrews, he was an officer. Here. He works for this police force.”

“Wha- He’s … wait, I only know about this case because Phichit went to investigate this morning. How’d you find out?”

“Victor’s the police gossip. Yuuri stared out the window from the passenger seat. “A fews of the guys were called out last night to check it out.“ He snorted at the expression on Yuuri’s face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I asked Victor to pick me up, too. Your friend, Phichit, right?” _He butchered that, but whatever._ Yuuri nodded. “Does he work with the police?”

“The newspaper.”

Leo sighed. “Even less trustworthy.” 

Victor arched an eyebrow in the mirror. “The police are trustworthy.”

Leo and Yuuri exchanged a look. 

“Anyway, you’re _almost_ right. Jake was _burgled_ ; he got home last night, and a bunch of his shit was gone.”

 

“What’d they take?” Yuuri asked.

Victor jumped in almost immediately. “A bunch of his clothes, his photos, his watch, some money, he’s pretty freaked out.”

“Gettin’ a little gloomy in here. Turn the radio on, will you?” Leo leaned across the seat and flipped the machine on. 

“ _Looking at highs of 65 today-_ ”

Leo switched the station. 

“ _Little darlin’, it’s been a long and lonely-_ The whole car groaned to block out the sound. Here Come the Sun had practically been on loop since the summer, and there wasn’t a person in California that legitimately enjoyed it anymore. Leo switched the station again. 

“ _-cause that’s just what you’ll do for a friend! Be a pal, and buy your pal a Coke! Only ten cent-_ ” Leo rolled his eyes. 

“That ad was the first thing that I heard when I woke up,” Yuuri commented.

“This morning?” Victor asked.

“No, in the hospital after Lovebird shot me.” Both Leo and Victor gave him a mildly horrified look. “Too much information?” 

Leo wordlessly changed the station again. 

“ _And you know what, I tell ya Bill, those commies have their hands on every piece of the Free World, it’s only a matter of time before-_

Leo switched the channel as quickly as he could. Yuuri saw Victor’s hands tighten slightly on the wheel. Static echoed through car. “Sorry, man,” Leo murmured. 

“Not your fault,” Victor told him, and the fake cheer in his voice made the sentence even less palatable. The car pulled off to the side of the road as they neared the police station. 

Yuuri rubbed his forehead as they all progressed up the stairs and into the police station, desperate to change the subject. “The break in here, and now this one. I was on my second day when … I mean, this isn’t a regular thing, right?” 

“Not all all,” Leo replied, frowning slightly. “Serious, which one of you dickheads said Macbeth in the theatre?” 

Yuuri glanced to his side, where Victor walked. His eyes were on Yuuri when he turned to look, but they flitted away the moment he noticed Yuuri noticing. His forehead was a little scrunched, his lips pursed. Yuuri let Leo pass him on his way to the office. 

“Hey, you look … worried. Everything alright?”

Victor nodded slowly. “I … yes. I guess what Leo said got to me a little. My mom and dad were really superstitious while I was with them; it kind of rubbed off on me.”

“What, you think the investigation’s cursed?” Victor gave him a look, and Yuuri realized how incredulously he’s said it. “Sorry. Do you, though?”

“Not … _really,_ it’s just … you’re gonna think I’m crazy. But … you have to understand, I’ve _never_ worked a case like this one before.”

“Alright.”

Victor took a deep breath in. “You don’t remember Lovebird drawing the cross in your blood.”

“No.”

“Most of the crime scenes have been spotless when it comes to actual, tangible evidence. The car lead is … rickety at best. We can barely generate a basic personality profile on the guy; it’s like he just appears, kills, and leaves. I mean, that doesn’t happen.”

“So you’re saying …”

“... it feels like we’re chasing after a ghost,” Victor finished quietly. “It feels like we’ll never catch him, and more people will end up like … well, like-“

There was a shout in the other room. Both men frowned; their side of the police station tended not to be as rowdy as the other. Yuuri gave Victor one last look, before jogging into the task force room.

Chris stood at another entrance to the room, chatting excitedly with Seung Gil. His hair was rumpled, and purple-black bags hung under his eyes. _He must have spent the night here again._ In spite of that, a smile that was three parts joy and one part sleep deprivation was plastered wide across Chris’ face. 

“Giacometti.” Everyone froze as they their boss’ voice cut through the conversation. Yuuri shrunk slightly, flattening himself against the desk nearest to him. Chris, however, stayed put, the huge grin still sitting straight. Clements stalked up, his eyes narrowed. “You’d better have a damn good reason to be making that kind of noise in here.”

“I do indeed.” Chris held up a photograph. Victor was some distance from the two, and couldn't quite make out the photo’s contents. Clements, on the other hand, could.

“Are those …?”

“Finger prints. On the guest bathroom sink. Hutchen, the murdered woman who ran the place, had the bathrooms cleaned every time a new guest arrived. And the prints don't match hers or Peter’s.” 

Yuuri frowned. “Forgive me, I’ve been looking at profiles all day. Peter …?”

“Murdered dude. Which means …”

Victor grinned. “We’ve got our real first bit of evidence. Nice work, Chris.” Someone in the room let out a small cheer of congratulations. 

“Okay, okay.” Even Clements had let a small smile creep up the side of his mouth. “We’ll cross reference the finger prints with any that we have on file. But until we find anything, everyone back on track.” A wave of “yessirs” echoed through the room, sounding more enthusiastic than Victor has ever heard them. He turned to Yuuri. The smaller man was positively _beaming_. 

_I want to solve this case,_ Victor thought as that look faded into a happy little smirk. _I want to see Yuuri smile like that all over again._

He shook his head. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another three or so weeks, another chapter 
> 
> As always, if you find anything that doesn’t seem quite right on the story, please tell me. I love it when you guys theorize about who LB is by the way, so ignore you have any ideas, feel free to comment! Thanks for sticking around.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE PHICHIT! IT’S A PHICHIT CHAPTER!! I CANT BELIEVE I NEGLECTED MY BOY LIKE THIS!!
> 
> I ABANDONED MY BOY!!!

Victor was considerably less enthusiastic that afternoon, when, though nearly half of the task force had been redirected to searching fingerprint archives, they still hadn’t found a match. 

He and Yuuri had paired off into a room with a projector. The found fingerprint was shown at the back wall. Stacks upon stacks of archived fingerprints surrounded the two. According to Chris, these as well had been rifled through during the break-in, and when they’d opened the the doors to where the files were kept, everyone’s hearts sank; the neat piles that they were generally kept in were strewn across the floor in utter disarray. “Looks like the clean up crew forgot to put everything back in order,” Chris had groaned. 

The pile that the two of them looked through now should have been a collection of the last names that began with C, but several B and N names were mixed in with them. The print that Chris had pulled off of the sink looked over them, a blown up version of itself. Victor worked the projector, and Yuuri handed him slides. They would place a print across the one that Chris had found, see if the two matched, and when they didn’t, place it in the, “this isn’t the killer’s fingerprint” stack. So far, all of them had landed there. 

There had been little progress from either side of the police station. Seung Gil Lee has informed the group that Mabuz’s alibi for the fourth murder (that he’d been out, checking a book out at the library) was rickety as best; the woman at the front desk, where the books were checked out, didn’t remember the man at all, and neither did anyone on the staff. Without them, there was no one to back up the alibi. Yuuri took a moment to conjure up the image of the man in question in his mind’s eye. Dull, shark-like eyes stared back at him, and Yuuri went back to his work at once, a chill running down his back. _If it was him, it wouldn’t surprise me at all,_ Yuuri thought bitterly, passing Victor another fingerprint file. Something about the Scotsman just seemed off to Yuuri, and Victor had commented on it a few times as well. _The only thing you can do now it find the killer’s fingerprint._ Yuuri sighed. The size of their tiny, dark room suddenly occurred to Yuuri in a way it hadn’t before. He shivered again. “Victor, I’m going to go stretch outside for a moment.”

Victor barely acknowledged him, his eyes glazed over from boredom. “Mmm.” Yuuri frowned, the expression on his friend’s face worrying him. They were all tired, sure, but it showed so prominently on Victor. He looked haggard, beaten. Dead. _Oh, Victor._ Yuuri knew how much this case was taking out of his friend; it made his heart ache. 

“Hey.” Yuuri summoned up his courage and placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder. Victor started, and glanced at him. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

A bit of color returned to Victor’s face. “That sounds really good, Yuuri. Thank you.” 

“Alright. Um.” He smiles half heartedly, and instinctively rubbed a small circle with his hand. “Hang in there.”

“A-Alright.” Victor’s face was pink. His deep-set, crystine eyes flitted between Yuuri’s own gaze and then down, almost toward his-

_I’ve been staring at him for way too long._

He quickly removed his hand. “See you in a few minutes.” Victor nodded quickly. 

_The glance, the stutter._ Yuuri’s face burned as he made his way out the door. _Is it possible that … could it_ be _that Yuuri’s feelings weren’t entirely one sided?_

He slammed into someone. 

The both fell to the ground. A red hot spike of pain cut through Yuuri’s still-healing stomach, and his back brace slammed into his rib cage. “Ah-!” The other person’s papers scattered across the ground. Ignoring the painful throb in his gut, Yuuri scrambled up onto his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry-“

“Yuuri-“ whoever is was giggled. “Yuuri, it’s fine.”

He looked up. It was Phichit.

“Phichit.” He laughed, and handed his roommate the rest of his papers. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Newspaper sent me. They wanted more information on the break-in case. I doubt I’m allowed in here. Need a hand up?” Yuuri nodded, and Phichit hauled him to his feet. “Well, I should probably get out of this section before we both get arrested. See you tonight …” Suddenly, Phichit trailed off, his jaw slackening ar something behind them. “What?” Yuuri turned. 

Victor had opened the door to their mini-office. “Yuuri, I forgot, we ran out of coffee this morning. I’ll be fine without- who’s this?”

Yuuri sighed. “This is my roommate, Phichit. He’s here to ask about the break-in case, and he ended up in the wrong section of the police station.” Phichit was as still staring at Victor, an expression Yuuri could place all too well painted blatantly across his face.

“Phichit! I’ve heard a lot about you! Victor Nikiforov.” Victor reached forward to shake his hand.

Phichit took it. “I haven’t heard _enough_ ,” and at that he sent a look to Yuuri, “about you. _Yuuri,_ there’s a coffee shop right down the block, if you want to pick something up from there …?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Victor said, shaking his head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Yuuri reached to touch his arm again. “You’re tired, I can tell. You deserve a little boost.” He smiled, and Victor smiled back. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.” Yuuri scampered away. Phichit followed him in close pursuit. 

Once they were out of ear range, Phichit burst like a too-full water balloon. “Who was _that_ and why have I not heard of him before?”

Yuuri groaned, but he was smiling slightly. “That’s Victor. He works with me.”

“That’s all?”

“He found me first after … the … shooting?”

“He looks like he was sculpted out of marble during the Renaissance, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri clapped his hands to his cheeks. “I know, right?”

Phichit gasped quietly.“Oh, you like him.” 

“Absolutely.” He raised an eyebrow at this. “What?”

His roommate squinted, as if to try and see if Yuuri was serious. “You’re usually _way_ more secluded about who you have feelings for. What’s up?”

“I dunno, he’s just … I don’t know.” Yuuri didn’t want to say _different_ ; nothing really set Victor apart from other people he’d liked. Besides the fact that he had no chance with him, but that was nothing new. 

_Or did he._

“I mean … there’s a tiny chance it … might be requited this time.” 

Phichit didn’t react. “Well, yeah. It was all over his face.”

Yuuri almost squeaked. “You think so?”

“He was all pink and stutter-y! It was _adorable_.” Phichit lowered his voice as they entered the coffee shop. “Honestly, I’d be all over him- don’t look at me like that, you two are end-game, and you’re my best friend. You look shocked. What did I say?”

“No, I just … I thought he, you know, wasn’t interested in _my demographic_.” Yuuri leaned across the counter and ordered. The shop was crowded; he was surprised the line hadn’t been longer. A bored-looking waitress jotted down his order. 

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. It doesn’t change the fact that his body language read, ‘teenage girl with a crush’, and when you touched his bicep he almost cried … Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s attention was elsewhere. 

A figure in the corner had its back turned to him. It was a man, for Yuuri had never seen a woman stand so tall. His hair was long, and dark. Yuuri wasn’t sure what, but something about the man set him on edge. Maybe it was his stature; the fact that he towered of Yuuri was intimidating. _That doesn’t seem quite right._ Phichit was saying something, but it seemed far off, and unimportant. 

_What is it?_

“Yuuri!” Phichit smacked his arm. He flinched, eyes finally breaking away from the man in the corner. “What’s going on? I’ve been trying to get your attention for like, two minutes.” 

“Oh, sorry I …” He shook his head. “I’m a little spaced out, I guess.” 

Phichit raised an eyebrow, and handed him the two cups of coffee he’d ordered. “Was it something about that guy over there? You were staring at him.”

Yuuri glanced back at the man. He’d moved, was was walking toward the exit of the shop. Again, the strange feeling of familiarity washed over Yuuri. He watched as the man left the shop, watched how he moved, watched him until he was out of the shop. 

He turned back to Phichit, and pretended to listen as his roommate spoke to him. Something was wrong; Yuuri couldn’t shake that feeling. Chills were running up and down his back as he took one last look out the window as the man left his line of view. 

_Maybe it was his height._

_His muscles._

_His quick, long gate._

_The way his head was just too small for his broad shoulders._

Yuuri turned around to talk to Phichit, and then the realization hit him like a pound of bricks. 

He could have recognized that silhouette anywhere.

 _It’s him._

It was him, the man who’d stared over Yuuri’s body as he slowly died, the one who’d blasted Tori’s face apart, _The one who’d-_ Yuuri’s stomach throbbed incessantly. 

_I need to go._

Without warning, Yuuri slammed the two cups of coffee into Phichit’s hands. The other man only saw a second of Yuuri’s face before he turned and ran, but that quick glance chilled him to his core. Yuuri’s eyes were wide and terrified. _What reason did he have for looking like that?_ Phichit wondered for a second as he watched his friend go. 

Out on the sidewalk, a group of teenagers had taken up most of the room on the sidewalk. Yuuri sprinted from the coffeeshop, and shoved his way through them. One of them yelled a slur at him; he barely heard. Past them, he could see Lovebird’s silhouette against the rush of oncoming cars on the street bisecting this one. He scrambled forward. 

_This can all be over._

The man disappeared around a corner. 

_This whole case, everything we’ve worked toward._

Yuuri’s toe caught a crack in the sidewalk, and he tumbled down. His hands and knees caught his body before it collided with the ground. Pain laced through his limbs, but he ignored it as he scrambled up. 

_Victor can finally get a good night’s sleep._

Yuuri turned the corner. 

His heart sank. The sidewalk was filled with people, and he couldn’t find the other man in the crowd. 

_He can’t be far._

A head, taller than the others, bobbed into view for a moment. Yuuri plunged into the throng of people. He pushed toward what he’d seen with all of his might, but when he reached the edge of the crowd, the man from the coffee shop was nowhere to be found. Yuuri felt frustration claw at his throat as he desperately glanced around. Had it been real? Could Lovebird simply melt away the way Victor suspected he could? Had he been projecting his fears into a random member of the crowd? He spun again, and again- _everything I’ve worked toward, everything Victor’s worked toward_ \- and again, and again, until the world titled on its axis and his head buzzed- _I can’t lose him now, I-_

But there was only the rush of people going by. Yuuri’s heart plummeted into his stomach, and he stumbled with the flow of the crowd until he found a small side street to duck into. The earth gave one more tremendous whirl, and Yuuri collapsed against an alley wall near. 

Knees shaking horribly, he sunk against the alley wall. Hot tears bit at his eyes as he slid to the ground. 

His stomach throbbed against his hand. Yuuri clenched his fingers around it. 

_Was it the right guy?_

_Was he even there at all?_

That thought was horrifying. He’s known that he was a little messed up after the incident, but seeing people that weren’t there was a whole other level of damage that Yuuri didn’t need. That he _couldn’t have_ if he was going to continue life as it was. 

_I wouldn’t be able be in the police force. Succeed in life. See Victor._ Gritting his teeth, Yuuri pushed himself to his knees, only to have the ghost wound he held twang to harshly that he cried out and slumped against the alley wall again. 

_What is wrong with me?_

“Yuuri?” 

He flinched and looked up, hoping to god that his eyes were dry. “Phichit, I- oh.” Victor’s eyes were filled with worry as he knelt beside him. 

“Phichit said you ran off, and he couldn’t find you.” Victor’s voice was softer than velvet. He rested a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri felt as if he could have sunk into that touch as easily as he could blink or cry. “What happened?”

“I-I swear I …” Yuuri’s voice caught. “I saw someone and it looked _so much like him,_ I-“ 

“Like Lovebird?”

Yuuri swallowed. “Yeah.” Exhaust suddenly filled his every limb. He slumped forward slightly, and Victor caught him in his arms. He was warm, and Yuuri could hear his friend’s heart beating haphazardly from running. The arms around him tightened, fingers grabbing at the back of his shirt. Victor smelled like dusty papers and fabric softener. He felt like home. Yuuri sank further in.

His stomach gave another awful twang, and he pulled backward with a hiss. “Stupid.”

Victor looked down to where the pain was originating, and his eyes widened. “Yuuri!”

“No, it’s fine, it hurts whenever I-“

“Yuuri, _look._ ” Yuuri glanced down, and gasped quietly. His hand was stained with red. 

“You’re bleeding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I have new!! I actually made a soundcloud playlist with songs that remind me either in tone or in lyrics of this fic, originally to listen to as I wrote, but I thought maybe you guys might be interest in that as well? Anyway, here’s the link: https://soundcloud.com/user-965504253/sets/lovebird My tumblr is still squigg-les if anyone has any questions for me personally.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You talk about him like a little brother.” 
> 
> “I suppose that’s what he is to me, in a sense. I met him when he was 13, and I’d just moved into the neighborhood. He was staying with who ever would let him in, and I figured, hey, this house is pretty big for one person, you can stay with me.” A sudden crackle of thunder made Yuuri glance out the window. He frowned. In the distance, a storm was brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF, it’s been a HOT MINUTE since I posted a chapter on here. So sorry, school’s been kicking my ass. I promise faster updates from now on :00

A soft, white bandage was wound around Yuuri’s lower torso. Its edges were crisp; they’d yet to be worn down by his shirt sliding over then. The nurse who’d applied them hadn’t tied them too loose, or too tightly, so he could breath. Though no color showed through yet, he could see multiple dark splotches seeping through the lower layers of fabric. 

He sighed heavily. 

“Yuuri, are you listening?”

He blinked, and looked up. A blurred blob that had the same color scheme as Phichit was sitting next to him. “I’m sorry. The pain killers are still wearing off.”

The blob squeezed his hand. “That’s fine. I was saying that I have to stay at work pretty late tonight, so Victor’s going to take you to his place for the night.” 

“You don’t have to pawn me off. I’d be fine on my own.” 

“The hospital said we should have someone with you tonight, just in case you have a bad reaction to the anesthesia, or you accidentally rip a stitch again.” Yuuri nodded, though he knew that that wasn’t what his roommate was worried about. “ _Hey,_ ” he added, abruptly switching to Thai. “ _Victor has been worried about you. It’s almost cute. He’s kind of distressed, though, so not really._ ” 

“I only got, like, half of that.” 

“But you understood the main idea?”

Yuuri smiled slightly. “Yeah.” The idea of Victor worrying over him wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though he hoped it wasn’t too much. “I’m sorry for worrying you today.”

Phichit squeezed Yuuri’s hand again. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He appeared to check his watch; Yuuri’s vision hadn’t cleared much. “I have to go now. Do Victor a favor and let him play caregiver with you?”

Yuuri snorted half-heartedly. “Sure.” 

“Bye.”

Yuuri waved. 

Once Phichit left, Yuuri had only thirty seconds to himself before the chair beside him creaked, and he turned to see Victor beside him. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” Victor said quietly, and Yuuri chuckled.

“Did you call my parents?” 

“No, Phichit said you wouldn’t want me to. Should we?”

“Mm-mm.” _I’ve been enough of a burden to them._ There was a small bit of Yuuri’s conscious that said he was much more welcome a burden to his parents than to Victor, but he didn’t want to see the look on his mother’s face when she realized he wasn’t getting better.

“Victor, where are my glasses?” He asked quietly. There was a soft clink and Victor’s fuzzy outline shifted slightly. Yuuri held out a hand, and a moment later he felt Victor press them into his palm. His fingers grazed lightly over Yuuri’s wrist before retracting.

The world was still slightly doubled after Yuuri places his glasses onto his face, but everything was clear, at least. He glanced over at Victor, and his stomach twisted; Victor’s lips were pursed, and his forehead was scrunched down into a permanent frown. He sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t apologize to me; you’ve done nothing to me.”

“You’re worried. You’ve got enough on your plate right now, and worrying about _me_ shouldn’t be one of those things.” Victor looked as if he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth sharply before whatever is was slipped out. An awful thought occurred to Yuuri. “Am-“ his voice crackled horribly. “Am I fired?” 

Victor started, then reached down again and cupped Yuuri’s shoulder. The touch was quite gingerly, and Yuuri wondered briefly if Victor thought he would jump from the bed and claw at him when whatever it was came out into the open. But Victor smiled, as if he was relieved to finally be able to deliver some good news. “As far as Clements knows, you tripped and that’s what ripped your stitches. He wasn’t mad, either. I think he related to you in a weird, I-got-battle-wounds-too way- Yuuri?” 

His co-worker’s face was red, and tears were swelling in his eyes again. “Thank you,” He choked out. “Thank you so much, I-“ Throwing caution to the winds, Yuuri clasped Victor’s hand in his own. “I’m nothing without this job, thank you. Thank you.” 

“What do you mean?” Victor questioned softly. 

Somewhere in his cloudy, emotion soaked mind, Yuuri still had some sliver of humor, because his first thought was, _Whoops._ “It- oh. It’s nothing.”

“Yuuri, you could get a job at any police station in the state, hell, maybe the country. What’s so special about this one?” 

Yuuri swallowed. “I need to … I mean, I …” Victor squeezed his hand suddenly, and Yuuri almost gasped. _Why not tell him?_

“My mom is deaf because when I was 7, someone tried to shoot her.” 

Victor was dead silent. Yuuri couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so he simply clung to his hand.

“The police never put any work into the case. They didn’t even identify it as a hate-crime, even though he was yelling … all sorts of things. The gun went off so close to her face that her ears were damaged permanently. We never had enough money to treat her properly, and eventually her hearing just … went. It wasn’t fair. And the justice system didn’t do anything.” He swallowed and finally looked up. Victor was staring at him like he was the only thing in the room. “I guess what I’m saying is, I want to be able to help people whose experiences I understand. And it’s not what I originally planned, but that includes anyone that Lovebird has or is going to kill. So I guess that’s why I want this job so bad. I want to succeed in life, and show everyone else that I can succeed, too.” 

Victor remained silent.

“Also, I get really nervous when I apply for new jobs, so I really didn’t want to go through that again. A-and, I know my reasoning is overly romantic and unrealistic, I just-“

“Yuuri, you’re a really good person.” Victor leaned over him, and cupped his other hand over Yuuri’s. “And I care about you. So I need you to promise me something. You’re not going to put this case before yourself, or before your health.” 

“Then I don’t want you too, either. You need to rest. You need sleep.” 

“What I need to do is work on the case,” Victor murmured. 

“So do I.” The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before bursting into sad, tired laughter. Yuuri clapped his hands over his face. “God, I wish this would just be _over_.” 

“I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.” 

“It’s hard on everyone.” A thought occurred. “How is Mila doing? She kind of disappeared yesterday, and then we were reassigned; I haven’t gotten to speak with her.” 

Victor opened his mouth, and then closed it. “She’s having …” _How much do I tell him?_ “... family difficulties. I think someone close to her got hurt.” It was much worse than that; Victor had visited Mila and Sala the night before, with freshly baked apple _pirog_ , courtesy of Yuri. Though she’d smiled and laughed, Sala’s face and arms had been adorned with dark bruises in the shapes of fists and fingerprints. Victor had only been about to watched in dismay as she winced at every move she was required to make. Mila and Michele’s faces were strained and tired with worry. He’d left their house with an aching heart. Victor shook his head to clear it of the memory. “I don’t know. We aren’t very close, we were just neighbors before I moved.” 

“I hope she’s alright.” 

“Me too.” 

Once Yuuri’s head was clear and the doctor who’d fixed his stitches gave him an okay, the two left the hospital. Yuuri had been equipped with a new back brace; this one was larger, and tight as a vice. A tiny aching pang filled his gut every time he took a step. The only good thing to come of it was that Victor allowed him to lean on him as they walked. He was warm, and smelled like coffee and cologne. In contrast to the hospital, with its cold air and bright lights, Victor seemed like the only thing that was human. They stopped near a pay phone to tell Yuri that there would be a guest at the house that night; Victor reported that Yuri had told him he didn’t care, and not to call him during work hours. Yuuri had nodded, avoid the sight of the phone booth with all his might.

Victor loaded Yuuri into the passenger seat of his car. It wasn’t the car that he usually drove; this one was sleek and black, and though it appeared normal on the outside, a large radio was built into the dashboard. Victor’s only comment was, “Chris was on edge.” This, in turn, set Yuuri on edge; if the fingerprint was identified tonight, then an arrest would be made tonight. He imagined waking to the announcement that the man who’d attempted to murder him had been apprehended. He shuddered. Victor sent him a sympathetic glance, but said nothing. The car started up.

The silence between the two became slightly suffocating after as they drove on. “Are you sure that your Yuri won’t mind me staying over?” Yuuri asked, in an attempt to shatter the atmosphere.

It worked; Victor brightened considerably at the mention of his younger housemate. “No. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he’s always looking for an excuse to cook something extravagant.”

Yuuri laughed softly. “Alright. Is he any good?” 

Victor nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. He’s going to work in the kitchen in the restaurant he waits at when he turns sixteen.”

“Wow. I didn’t have a proper job until I was 18, that’s fantastic.” 

“Yes, Yuri’s … resilient.” Victor frowned slightly. “I worry about him growing up too fast sometimes.”

“You talk about him like a little brother.” 

“I suppose that’s what he is to me, in a sense. I met him when he was 13, and I’d just moved into the neighborhood. He was staying with who ever would let him in, and I figured, hey, this house is pretty big for one person, you can stay with me.” A sudden crackle of thunder made Yuuri glance out the window. He frowned. In the distance, a storm was brewing. 

A sudden thought occurred and Yuuri digested this new information. “I won’t be pushing anyone from their room, will I?” 

“Like I did you? No, we have a spare, don’t worry.” Yuuri laughed again.

“It wasn’t a problem, really.” 

“It wasn’t what … what made you-“

“No.” Yuuri said, rather shortly. He sighed. “Nightmares go ... wherever I go. That wasn’t your fault.” He offered a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood after his rather dark statement, but Victor’s eyes were already clouded with worry when he glanced over. _Goddamn it._ “Victor-“

An angry blast of static erupted from the glove box. Yuuri glanced about in confusion, then remembered that this was wasn’t Victor’s personal car. Victor flinched slightly, and adjusted the channel on his radio. A voice slowly can into focus.

“... available units in the area, proceed with caution. Suspect is armed, and dangerous.” Both men frowned, and leaned in. Yuuri felt a familiar and and exhausting spike of adrenaline unfurl in his chest. Victor pulled over to the side of the road. “Again,” and he rattled off a long address that Yuuri scribbled down into his arm. “He is a white male, 6’1 with black hair and blue eyes-“

They both froze. 

“His name is Mabuz Fraiser, and he is suspected of being a serial killer referred to as-“

“No fucking way,” Yuuri murmured.

“-Lovebird.”

Victor fumbled with the dials on the dashboard and the radio switched off. The two slumped back into their seats, eyes wide. Nothing broke the silence for a moment. 

“Oh my _God._ ”

“Holy _shit,_ Victor, holy _shit_ -“

“Jesus Christ!” Victor ran his hand through his hair. “Oh my God!” Yuuri has both of his hands pressed to his forehead in absolute disbelief. “Wait, what did he say the address was?”

Yuuri murmured out the sequence he had written down. “Wait.” He scrambled at the glove box latch, before opening it, and pulling out a map. He frantically scanned the sheet, before pressing a trembling finger to the center. “Here. Where are …” He pressed another finger to a different spot on the map. “We’re here. Victor, we’re really close.” 

“Let me see that.” Victor snatched the map from him and stared at the spot on the map that Yuuri had identified. Glancing over his shoulder, Yuuri frowned. A small x had been made in pencil, just across the street. It was a little worn; the shape was faded and smudged. “Victor, what’s that?” 

“It’s nothing. We need to go.” Victor shoved the map back into Yuuri’s hands, and gunned the engine. “Where do I turn off the highway?” 

“In five exits. Are we- I mean are you sure- are we _authorized_ -” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“But what if … this all seems so _sudden_.”

“I know.” Victor reached a shaking hand from the steering wheel and placed it on Yuuri’s. If not for the situation, it would have seemed out of place, but Yuuri twined their fingers together for a moment. Victor pulled away, placing both his hands on the steering wheel. Yuuri’s eyes fell down to the map. The tiny, smudged x seemed to stare at him as the first drops of rain began to hit the car window. 

A tiny, revolting thought was uncurling it’s long, thin legs in the back of Yuuri’s mind. He pushed it down, flattening it before it could dig into his mind. Even as he crushed it, a small stain remained on the image he held of Victor. He took a breath in. Let it out. Clenched and unclenched his hands. _It was Mabuz’s prints that they found, not anyone else’s. Don’t be ridiculous._

They drove in heavy silence. Yuuri worked to steady his breathing, and clenched his fists to keep them from trembling. Victor only stared forward, his arms and hands openly shaking. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, despite the fact that it couldn’t have been more than than sixty degrees in the car. “Victor?” Yuuri murmured. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” _Once we get there._ Yuuri’s eyes remained glued to his coworker, scanning him for something Yuuri wasn’t quite sure he knew. 

The car roared along. Yuuri found himself lapsing rapidly through moments of peace, before the full extent of the situation would hit him again, and the awful, familiar feeling of nausea and nervousness would seize him. The sky was beginning to darken. He tranced his finger across the the map, following their location. 

Victor pulled off the highway and sped toward the exit. Nothing but the sound of the two men’s heavily breath filled the car. Yuuri didn’t feel real. There was brief calm as the streets became unfamiliar, but then the car turned and _Oh god, that’s the street his house is on._ “Victor-“

“I know.” Victor’s voice was slightly choked. 

The human in Yuuri trembled in fear as the police cruiser slowed down the street. The police officer in him kept his eyes on the houses around him. They were low to the ground, strewn sparsely among restaurants and offices that also inhabited the area. Not wealthy, but not poor. Yuuri glanced down at the address scrawled hastily on his arm. “We’re close.”

Victor didn’t respond. 

“Thank you so much for taking care of me, Victor. A-and getting me this job. And finding- finding me after I was shot, I-“ his eyes remained glued to the street outside. 

He heard Victor took a shaken breath in. “Why are you …?” 

“I don’t know, I-“ the house came into view. “I wanted you to know I’m so grateful for you, just in case we-“ The reality of their situation hit him suddenly, and the rest of the air in his lungs left him. There wasn’t a single other police car in the entire neighborhood. “We’re the first ones here.”

“We don’t have a warrant,” Victor whispered.

“Victor, look.” There was something wrong with house, it would be seen even through the rain, which was growing by the second in intensity. Both men found a sinking dread embedded in their stomachs. 

The door was hanging slightly open. 

“You should stay in here,” Victor murmured. 

“Victor.” He almost flinched; Yuuri’s voice was more intense than anything he’d heard from him. “I’m coming.”

Victor wordlessly handed Yuuri a gun from the glove box, before drawing his own. He only had a second to wonder why Victor owned his own firearm before he pulled himself from the car. Victor lead the way, his gun pointed straight ahead of him. Yuuri copies him. The stance that the police academy had practically carved into the backs of his eyelids was what he immediately snapped to; even after months of not practicing, muscle memory was a powerful thing. The shaking in his hands gradually lessened until it was an unnoticeable quiver at the very tip of his gun. As Victor approached, he slowed, and nudged the door open with his foot. A thin creak echoed through the house. 

The hall before them split in two. Victor went right, Yuuri went left, into a large, vacant kitchen. There was no light except that of the streetlights outside. Without warning, a fork of lightning hit the street outside, a few blocks always, illuminated the room. Every shadow seemed to wink as him. Yuuri was shuddering horribly, but as the kitchen narrowed back into a hall, and Victor emerged from it, he stuttered a whispery, “A-all clear.” 

“All clear here.” Victor breathed. A long, dark hallway stretched before them, with no windows to illuminate it. Victor produced a flashlight from his pocket, and clicked it on. There were only three doors; one, closest to them, on the left; another, on the right wall, farther down. The last was at the end of the hall. Yuuri stared at it. Now side by side, the two made their way down.

Victor pushed the first door open, gun at the ready. An empty bathroom greeted him, and he let out a quiet sigh. “All clear.” 

Yuuri found a dark study behind the second door. He flicked the light on, and found nothing but papers and books. 

“All clear.” 

There was no sound but the thrumming of raining the windows. 

Both men stared at the far door. 

Victor was the first to move. Yuuri slipped into the hall after him. His gun wobbled. He fixed it straight forward. All thoughts left his head, and the only thing he felt was his heart, racing in his ear. 

Victor opened the door, and the smell of blood flooded into the hallway. 

The house was very quiet, and then Victor gagged and crumpled over, like a crushed tin can.

“Hey, hey-“ Yuuri rushed toward him, but his attention was drawn to the scene in the room. 

An enormous blood stain encompassed nearly the entire floor of the room, half dried on the hardwood floors. Yuuri felt as though a hand was slowly closing down on his throat as he stared down at the two people who lay in it. 

_Everything that I’ve worked for-_

The body to the far right lay on her face; deep burgundy hair splayed out all around her. A tiny, bloody hole crowed the back of her skull. 

_Everything Victor’s worked for-_

He shifted his gaze left, and a horrible buzz filled his ears. Yuuri wanted to scream, to run, to be anywhere but where he was right now, perhaps even to die again. 

The second body lay on his back. A bullet hole has blown apart his forehead, but it seemed minuscule compared to the deep, ragged cross that had been carved across his face. The lacerations has torn apart his cheeks, crushed the cartilage in his nose, but his dark, sharklike eyes remained open. 

_This doesn’t make any sense,_ Yuuri thought, before the turmoil in his stomach became too much for him, and he doubled over to vomit.

It was Mabuz Fraser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao y’all THOUGHT


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crying certainly didn’t take away from Victor’s beauty; Yuuri hated it, but this was what he noted first. He knew for a fact that when he cried, his face scrunched like a child’s, and snot and tears streamed in an uncontrollable torrent down his face. Victor could have simply been frowning, if not for the redness in his cheeks and nose, and the fat, shining tears that were sliding continuously down his face. His friend’s eyes averted from his in what could have been shame. “Victor, why are you crying?”
> 
> “I’m angry,” he whispered.

It was the fall of 1969, and the sky had opened up as if God Himself had begun to cry over the earth. 

The air was sharp and acrid; smoke from a nearby lightning strike wafted freely through the air. Beside the occasional flash from far off, it was dark. 

Yuuri Katsuki pulled himself from all fours to his knees; a minor improvement. The room around him was blurry and red; when he’d fallen, blood from the floor had coated his palms. He stared at them for a moment, and looked about, trying to figure out where he could wipe it away. His legs were the only option. Mabuz’s blood left two dark streaks on his slacks.

_Get up._

He was kneeling in a pool of his vomit, and two people’s drying vital fluids. Even so, he couldn’t seem to straighten his legs.

_Get_ up.

Yuuri pushed himself shakily to his feet, and stumbled backward. The wall caught him. Being upright provided a different view of the bodies, one he really didn’t need. Mabuz’s face, even in death, was terrified. His jaw lay slack, leaving his mouth open, even post mortem. _He probably died screaming._ He glanced to the side, but found no one. “Victor?” He grabbed the wall, and hauled himself around the corner. His compatriot stood down the hall, his back to Yuuri. His hands lay, clenched, at his sides. “Victor?” No reply.

Yuuri hesitated for a moment. Adrenaline made his limbs feel numb and heavy. He felt as if he should be worried, but through everything else, all he could do was tremble uncontrollably. The wall was the only stable thing in the world. Yuuri dragged himself forward on it. “Victor. Hey.” His voice was but a harsh croak. Victor turned his face away as Yuuri came around to his front. Even so, Yuuri didn’t miss the unnatural shining streaks of liquid down his cheeks. 

Crying certainly didn’t take away from Victor’s beauty; Yuuri hated it, but this was what he noted first. He knew for a fact that when he cried, his face scrunched like a child’s, and snot and tears streamed in an uncontrollable torrent down his face. Victor could have simply been frowning, if not for the redness in his cheeks and nose, and the fat, shining tears that were sliding continuously down his face. His friend’s eyes averted from his in what could have been shame. “Victor, why are you crying?”

“I’m angry,” he whispered. Yuuri blinked. “We were so close.”

“I know.”

“I-I don’t know how he knew we were going to go after Mabuz, or why the fingerprints were at the crime scene, or why he would kill such a religious man if that’s his motivation … nothing makes sense anymore.” 

“I know,” Yuuri whispered. 

Victor took a deep breath in, maybe to calm himself, but his face trembled horribly, and when he opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was an angry, choked sob. He turned away from Yuuri, embarrassed, but Yuuri stepped back into his line of vision as soon as he went. “There’s no shame in crying,” he murmured. This seemed to take him by surprise, because the shuddering breaths Victor had been taking in halted, just for a moment, before resuming at a more gentle pace. “My mom used to tell me that when I was a little kid. It’s natural, you know.” Smiling slightly, Yuuri collected the corner of his sleeve in his hand, and slowly raised it up. Victor flinched slightly as it hit eye level, but Yuuri only began to methodically wipe the tears from his face. He could feel Victor trembling under his fingers. “You’re okay.” 

“Mabuz and Edith Fraiser aren’t okay.” 

“I know. But there’s nothing we can do for them now but catch whoever did this.” Yuuri wasn’t quite sure where this was coming from; he was feeling a lot of things at the moment, but confidence in his ability as a member of the police was not one of them. Victor caught his wrist abruptly.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. Yuuri swallowed. “Are you okay?” 

Yuuri nodded, and abruptly felt his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, and Victor caught him easily. The house was quiet for a moment, and as Yuuri clutched the back of Victor’s shirt to right himself, he could feel his friend’s erratic heartbeat through his chest. 

Yuuri pushed himself back to his feet. He felt very warm all over; even in this state, Victor had the unwavering ability to fluster. “You are too.” 

Victor laughed, and it sounded horrible and broken, but it was laugh nonetheless, and Yuuri looked up at him. Victor’s eyes met his. He was _awfully_ close to him now, so close that Yuuri could feel his breath on his face. And an urge he couldn’t describe, almost magnetic, but not quite, wanted, perhaps, to be ever closer. Yuuri’s heart was sore from knocking about his chest during the last few minutes, but it rattled to life again, more enthusiastically than ever. “Vic … tor.” 

“Yes?” The reply was breathy, almost choked. 

He was _right there._

_I was to kiss you very badly._

Outside, a pair of tires screeched to a halt. The two flew apart. Yuuri’s hand drifted to the gun he’d placed in his holster as several pairs of footsteps rattled up the porch. The door creaked open. A horribly bright light flicked on, and Yuuri squinted as it swiveled toward his face. “Katsuki?” someone hissed.

“There’s no need to whisper,” Yuuri said.

~•~

The next two hours were a blur of light and dark. Someone sat both Victor and Yuuri down, and spat a cascade of questions at them. An enormous amount of officers poured in, all leaving with varying degrees of disgust on their faces from the absolute atrocity in the other room. They watched as the cop cars flooded through the neighborhood, rapping on the doors of the neighbors and the restaurant across the street. Sometimes Yuuri closed his eyes for too long, and the image of Mabuz Fraiser’s face would appear in his mind’s eye. The shredded cartilage of his nose, the way the cuts had taken apart the soft tissue in his cheeks, all the way down to his bloodied teeth and gums underneath- Yuuri opened his eyes, and shook his head quickly. _There is nothing I can do now._

He wondered if the cuts had been made post-mortem.

Perhaps an hour in, someone ushered Victor out onto the porch. Yuuri, having nothing to do, hauled himself up and followed. Out on the porch, three policemen were crowded around someone, who when catching Victor’s eye, darted from among them. It was a young boy, maybe 14 or 15 at most. His white blonde hair whipped about his head wildly as he hurled himself into Victor’s arms. From inside, Yuuri could see the younger boy shaking as Victor held him. After a moment, he pulled away, looking almost embarrassed that he’d shown such emotion. “Is what they’re saying true?” His voice had a heavy Slavic accent. “Did the couple who live here really get …” the boy gripped his sides with his arms and stared down. 

“Yes. We just recovered the bodies,” Victor replied. The boy resumed trembling, and Victor reached forward toward him. The boy swatted his hand away. “Jesus, Victor, I’m not a baby.” 

“Victor?” Yuuri called quietly. Both of them turned to look at him. Victor mouthed that Yuuri recognized as “oh boy.”

“Okay … Yuuri, you, Yuuri,” he said pointing at Yuuri. “This is Yuri, my roommate.” _Oh._ “Yuri,” He pointed at the blonde boy, who was looking more aggravated by the second. “This is Other Yuuri.” 

“Hi, uh. Yuri.” Yuuri steppes forward from inside the house. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Yeah. Likewise,” the other Yuri said gruffly. His eyes averted themselves from him, and a light flush crest across his face. _Probably embarrassed I caught him hugging Victor._

“Hey, Nikiforov, who’s the kid?” JJ emerged from the from door, and squinted. “I told you not to bring witnesses into the house.” 

Victor started,“Oh, he’s not a-“ but Yuri cut him off abruptly. “It happened two days ago, right?”

Yuuri, Victor, and JJ all turned and frowned. “How’d you know that?” JJ asked. He leaned against the doorframe, displaying how broad his shoulders were. Yuri was a very slight boy, and he looked like a fairy in comparison, yet he stood nearly twice as proudly. 

“I saw something,” he stated confidently. “Two days ago, a man went into that house, while I was taking out the garbage across the street. I’d never seen him before, so I noticed. I don’t know when he left, but the door’s been open ever since.”

JJ’s jaw dropped, as did Victor and Yuuri’s. “You’re serious?” Victor asked. “Completely? It’s against the law to lie to a police officer.”

“You told me that last week when I used your personal money to buy myself a Ginger Ale and then lied about it. And _no._ Why would I lie about this?” 

Yuuri instinctively grabbed at his sided for a notepad, only to remember he was still in his street clothes. JJ noticed this, and smiled sympathetically, before drawing out his own notepad. “Can you tell me anything about the man you saw enter this house?” He glanced over Yuri at Victor and Yuuri, and made a subtle “shoo” motion with his hand. The two blinked, and obliged silently. 

“Yuri- your Yuri- works across the street.” Yuuri murmured as they made their way down the steps of the house. The rain had slowed considerably, and he barely noticed it as they stood out in the open. A few droplets cling to his glasses, and he removed them to wipe them in his shirt. 

“Mmm.”

“That complicates things.” 

“Yes, it does.” Victor was still bouncing his leg, subtly. Yuuri glanced down, then back up at him. His coworker wouldn’t meet his eye.

He carefully placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder, feeling hyper aware of the amount of people around them. “Hey,” was all he said. Victor sighed. 

“I’m alright. Really.” 

Yuuri nodded slowly. “If you’re sure.” 

Victor’s eyes had gone back to Yuri, over at the house. “Do you think … I mean, I don’t know you _that_ well but … if you still want to stay at my house tonight, do you think you could drive Yuri home? He’s only 15, and I usually drive him, but …” his gaze shifted slightly from his roommate to the entrance of the house, “They’re definitely going to want me to stay at work after this.” 

“You’ve been working so much lately,” Yuuri murmured. “You’re sure they won’t let you take tonight off?”

Victor opened his mouth to answer, but from the porch a booming voice called, “Katsuki, Nikiforov.” Both man snapped to attention as their captain and task force head towered over them. “We’re heading back to the station. Both of you are coming.”

Victor frowned. “Yuuri’s-“

“He’s out of bed, yes?” 

“Yes, but-“

“Victor, I’ll be alright,” Yuuri murmured. Victor clenched his jaw, clearly unhappy with what was about to happen. Clement’s deep, dark eyes flitted between the two of them in an almost confused manner. Neither Yuuri nor Victor noticed it, but if anyone had, it would have seemed strange to see such a large, cold man appear as if there was something he didn’t just _know._ This didn’t last long, however, and his stonelike demeanor returned within a matter of seconds. “Katsuki, once forensics is finished with the crime scene, you’re going to write the report. That should keep you in your desk for the time being. Despite what you might think, Nikiforov,” and he turned to Victor, his eyes flashing dangerously, “I’m not trying to kill one of the officers on this case.” 

Victor opened his mouth, closed it, kicked his lips, and then stammered, “Understood, sir.” 

“Good. Find arrangements for your … brother?”

“Roommate.”

“-to get back home, and then come with me. Oh, and Katsuki?” Yuuri blinked, and nodded. “Nikiforov’s …”

“Roommate.”

“-that, mentioned something we’ll need in the report. The man who he saw enter the house was blonde.”

“Blonde?” Yuuri’s stomach clenched as he ran over the suspects in his head. “We don’t have any blonde-“

“I know.” Clements face was more grim than usual. “Just get it down.” 

“Yessir.” Yuuri and Victor exchanged another glance, before going their separate ways. The three men’s minds were whirling, trying desperately to make sense of their bizarre and borderline ridiculous. 

_Blonde, huh?_

It seemed they had more digging to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Sorry for the wait, and I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. We've got an interesting chapter coming up soon, I hope you're all ready :)))) As always, if something within the story seems off or unrealistic, feel free to point it out, but do be polite, I'm fragile. See you in a couple weeks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my dudes! I'm glad you're here, and I hope you stick around for the later chapters! thanks! :0


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